


The Fall of the House of Kuno

by Narsil



Series: Chained World [1]
Category: Ranma 1/2, Sailor Moon - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Crossover, Dubious Consent, F/M, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-26 10:45:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 40
Words: 163,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narsil/pseuds/Narsil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world in chains, when Kuno Tatewaki inherits his father's lordship and makes his move to acquire Akane and "his" pigtailed girl, Ranma finds himself with no good choices, and Sailor Pluto finally gets the opportunity to fix a centuries-old mistake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Chained World

**Author's Note:**

> A little background on this story: At Anime Addventure, there is one group of threads all branching off an original episode called Chained World, where Ranma and Genma ended up in an alternate earth where slavery was still a common social institution. Some of them are lemon threads, some are threads with lemons, some have no lemons at all, but in practically all of them Ranma winds up with one or more slaves (females) from whatever manga/anime you'd care to name — in only one thread I can remember does Ranma end up a slave, and in that one he's a trained mamluk, purchased as a bodyguard. I certainly don't have any problem with these threads, I enjoy some of them immensely and can’t remember any I really disliked, but as a result of Ranma being the standard master the result is what you could call the lighter side of slavery. Then, while reading Eric Flint's excellent _1824: the Arkansas War_ , I came across a thought by one character that kicked off inspiration for a rather different, much darker, type of story (the thought is quoted at the beginning of chapter two).
> 
> This will be a Shakespeare-type tragedy, don't expect a happy ending: YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

**Current Affairs:** A Cold War between Dar al-Islam with the British Empire and the European Union in the West, and the Empire of Japan and its Indian allies in the East. Another Cold War between the Spanish Empire and the United States.

**Divergence Point:** The reforms of Suleiman the Wise to include making the heirs of the Sultan adopted rather than blood descent.

**Major Civilizations:** Western (multipolar), Islamic (empire), Japanese (empire)

**Great Powers:** Dar al-Islam (dictatorship), the European Union (republic of constitutional monarchies), the British Empire (republic), the United States of America (federated representative republic), the Spanish Empire (dictatorship), the Empire of Japan (dictatorship)

* * *

Perhaps Suleiman the Magnificent’s most far-reaching and important reforms were his decisions to adopt an heir, after the manner of the golden age of the Roman Empire, and the creation of the Regional Council, made up of respected men from all parts of the Ottoman Empire to provide advice and, in the event of the death of the Sultan without appointing a heir, choosing a new Sultan.

The son of his favorite wife, who had been positioning himself to become the next sultan, did not care for these reforms and upon his father’s death attempted to seize the throne with the support of the military stationed in Istanbul. He failed miserably, and his execution and the long reign of the next sultan, who also adopted an heir, cemented the new laws.

Suleiman’s successor, Cemal the Unifier, decided that it was time to leave Europe alone for a time and focus on making Dar al-Islam a reality again. He spent the rest of his life conquering Persia, central Asia, the Muslim states of northern India, as well as completing the Ottoman Empire’s control of northern and eastern Africa while forcing the Portuguese and other Europeans out of the Indian Ocean. With the Ottomans adopting the naval technology of Europe, the Portuguese and other European powers were soon expelled through sheer overpowering numbers. With the final success of reuniting Islam except for Indonesia, Cemal officially changed the name of the Empire to Dar al-Islam.

The empire having reached the limits of Dar al-Islam on land, his successor turned his attention to advancing into the non-Muslim part of India on land and successfully bringing Indonesia into Dar al-Islam by sea.

In Japan, the Portuguese and Dutch had been warning the Japanese of the territorial advance of the Ottomans for decades, but had not been taken seriously. Then the European traders stopped showing up. And then, as Hideyoshi was leading his second invasion of Korea, the first Muslim mission arrived at Kyoto. The mission to Japan had not been considered of high importance by the House’s court, and the chief envoy had been a poor pick — an arrogant religious fanatic and cultural bigot that offended the Imperial court and was soon sent packing. Still, he had made an impression, one that Tokugawa considered carefully even before he rose to power after Hideyoshi’s death, and he decided that Japan could not afford to try and seal itself off from the rest of the world but instead needed an empire of its own.

The first result of that decision was that the Japanese army was not pulled out of Korea. Instead, the army held what it could, and after Tokugawa defeated his rivals in Japan he once again went on the offensive. In the end, the superior military technology the Japanese had acquired from the European traders and then improved upon, combined with Tokugawa’s willingness to accept as equals Koreans willing to adopt Japanese customs and work with their conquerors, proved sufficient to pacify Korea.

With that achieved, a series of succeeding shoguns turned their attention to the Philippines, Vietnam, and especially China, taking the coast and some distance inland before ceasing further conquests due to a serious distraction — the attempt by the Muslims of Indonesia to advance Jihad into the southernmost, and most recent, Japanese conquests.

In the end, the Japanese pushed the Muslim armies back out of its territory and counterattacked into Indonesia, successfully conquering the entire region and renaming it Daerah Selatan (‘Southern Territories’ in one of the native languages). The Muslims attempted to retake their lost province, but again, the Japanese’ superior military technology combined with the difficulty of projecting power across the Indian Ocean proved too difficult.

Still, the Japanese found holding Daerah Selatan, with its majority Muslim population, a very different proposition from its previous conquests. That difficulty, combined with its discovery and colonization of Australia, kept it from ever resuming the conquest of inland China — except for the Pacific islands, eventually reaching as far east as Hawaii, the Japanese Empire had reached its limits.

Another result of the Muslim mission was that Tokugawa chose not to suppress Christianity as he had at first intended. Deciding that he might make use of them if Japan re-established contact with the Europeans, he instead chose to officially ignore them while subtly discouraging Christianity’s spread and limiting the power of Christian converts in the military and the court. This, combined with the lack of contact with Europe, did slow the spread of the new religion while leading many converts to seek to adapt their new religion to their birth culture. By the time that reliable contact with ‘Europeans’ was renewed, from across the Pacific by way of the Americas, ‘Shinto Christianity’, as Western observers called it, had become the religion of a large minority but had changed enough that it was considered a bizarre heresy.

Dar al’Islam, bogged down in northern India and thrown back in the south Pacific, finally turned its attention again to Europe. Over several generations the Muslim armies and navy successfully took the Balkans and the islands of the eastern Mediterranean before being stopped by a coalition of all the nations of Europe. The sultan of the time wisely chose to stop all expansion, for fear that it would lead to the nations of Europe forming a continental coalition as had happened in India. The sultans that followed chose to keep the policy in force, and with the halt of Muslim attacks the European powers resumed their quarrels, shifting alliances, and wars.

Especially bitter was the contest between France and Britain over North America, eventually ending in the expulsion of French authority from all of its North American possessions and the apparently inevitable rise of Great Britain to replace France as the dominant power in Europe. The inevitability of that rise was shattered by the revolt of Britain’s thirteen American colonies, with much of Europe eventually joining the war. Though in the end Britain succeeded in winning everywhere except in the thirteen colonies (wisely avoiding sending any armies to Europe), the loss of those colonies meant that Britain would never have the manpower to play a major military role on the European mainland without allies.

Dar al’Islam had watched all of the turmoil with real temptation, but succeeded in resisting the urge to get involved. Then revolution came to France, the armies of Europe again were on the march, and Jihad once again came to Western Europe. The Muslims had never forgotten their loss of the Iberian Peninsula, and when French armies invaded Spain from the north the Muslims invaded from North Africa. The British Navy attempted to cut off the Muslim armies by taking naval control of the western Mediterranean, but found itself facing a fleet that, while lacking its experience, was twice its size and well trained; while the British officially considered the Battle of the Pillars of Hercules a draw, the British Navy withdrew into the Atlantic. The French armies fared no better — the Muslim armies were larger and just as fanatical, and in the end the French were forced back across the Pyrenees.

The nations of continental Europe, stunned by the sudden Muslim advance, rapidly put aside their differences and formed a European Union, with a weak central government very similar to Great Britain’s parliament and a federal system based on the US example.

The Spanish crown and nobility and much of the middle class, first under attack by the French and then by the Muslims, in the end fled the country, taking ship for Mexico. There, the king formed a new Spanish Empire extending from Mexico through Central America and down the west coast of South America. However, it wasn’t yet done losing wars — the new United States had taken advantage of the chaos of the European war and Spanish migration to the New World to declare Texas, New Orleans and the entire Mississippi Valley, Florida, and Cuba to be US territory and in the end managed to make it stick. A generation later, when the Spanish Empire was in the midst of repressing a series of rebellions in its South American holdings, the US declared war and seized the rest of the territory west of the Mississippi, including California and Baja California. The Spanish Empire fought two wars with the US a generation apart in an attempt to regain its lost territory, but the first war ended in stalemate and the second cost it its Caribbean islands.

Currently, the world is in the midst of a Cold War of sorts. With the conquest of the Iberian Peninsula, Dar al’Islam has turned its attention to retaking Indonesia from the Empire of Japan but is afraid that too great an effort will invite an attack from the European Union and the British Empire and so has contented itself with support of Muslim guerillas and terrorists within Indonesia itself. Japan has reciprocated by allying with the Indian Confederation and supporting resistance movements inside the House’s non-majority Muslim Indian territory. Europe has remained ostensibly at peace with Dar al’Islam for a century but has strongly supported resistance movements in the Empire’s European holdings, while the British Empire has reinforced its territory in South Africa and allows no Muslim shipping into the Atlantic. The United States have had a frigid peace with the ‘monarchical slave power’ to its south for several generations, but are accused (correctly) of supporting democratic movements within the Spanish Empire’s borders. Japan is officially neutral toward the US and is usually friendly, but occasionally protests the activities of the ‘Underground Railroad’ that private American citizens help run, smuggling runaway slaves to the US (as the US do with _all_ the other nations, to the best extent possible). However, unlike the Spanish Empire, the protests are _pro forma_ — the Shogun knows that the numbers that escape are a drop in the bucket and that it provides a useful release valve.

  
Slavery

Dar al’Islam cannot be held responsible for the institution of slavery itself, but a fair case can be made making it responsible for the current state of slavery in the world. Suleiman the Wise’s reforms did not include the laws governing slavery, but his successor made up for that lack. Islamic law forbade enslaving Muslims, and Cemal recognized that by concentrating on unifying the House of Peace he would be cutting off a primary source of the slaves the Empire depended on — slaves by conquest. So as he began his conquests of the Muslim states he instituted a new form of slavery under another name, the temporary slave known as the servitor. Since servitors were not officially slaves they could be Muslims. But since most would be Muslims, their rights had to be made clear and strictly enforced.

This model worked well for the Muslims, and even when future sultans once again moved into non-Muslim territories they kept it, simply extending it to their new non-Muslim subjects along with the traditional permanent slavery for captured enemies, rebels, and those non-Muslims guilty of major crimes or extensive debts. As well, the model soon spread to the House’s Indian and Japanese neighbors.

In Europe, adoption of the Muslim model had to wait until the British anti-slavery movement of the late 18th and early 19th centuries. The plantation owners of the Caribbean and the commercial interests dependent on them, realizing that the movement was gaining support, called for the reformation of slavery rather than its abolishment. In the end they succeeded in passing legislation based on the House’s laws (including the abolishment of debtors’ prisons in favor of temporary bondsmanship as well as voluntary temporary slavery for economic reasons based on the now-defunct practice of indentured servitude). With the laws passed they breathed a sigh of relief, expecting that they could get on with business as usual. Their relief was short lived. The anti-slavery movement, having failed to get the abolishment they sought, demanded that at least the provisions giving basic rights to even permanent slaves be rigidly enforced, and here the reformers won. The rest of Europe had watched events in Britain with interest and while none of them except Spain had anything like the number of slaves that Britain had, they chose to adopt the same laws.

There are regional differences between the civilizations, of course, with the most obvious difference being the laws governing sexual slavery. Sexual slavery is widespread in Japan, India and Dar al’Islam, though in Japan, thanks to the efforts of the Shinto Christians, sexual slavery requires the assent of the individual in question and that individual must be a legal adult. In Japan and India, children of sexual (or full use) slaves cannot inherit as they can in Dar al’Islam. In Dar al’Islam, sexual slavery is only permitted in the form of concubinage, though the laws are often ignored. In the British Empire and Europe sexual slavery is strictly forbidden, as is also ostensibly the case in the Spanish Empire.

The one exception to the extent of legal slavery throughout the world is the United States. In the British territories on the mainland of North America, slavery had been primarily race-based, agricultural, and while not as brutal as that on the Caribbean sugar plantations dehumanizing enough to evoke widespread disgust and opposition, even among some Southern plantation owners. This, combined with the fact that slavery was widely seen in the British American colonies as a Muslim institution, gave its enemies in the Constitutional Convention that followed the American Revolution the opportunity to successfully push for provisions in the new constitution leading to slavery’s eventual abolishment. When the time came to put those provisions into practice the Southern plantation owners balked, and talk of secession became endemic. That all ended when Dar al’Islam invaded Spain and enslaved much of the population. The plantation owners lost the support of the common Southerner, so the Southern upper classes accepted gradual compensated emancipation. Now the US are as rabidly anti-slavery as they are anti-monarchical, and the federal government pushes for the legal abolishment of slavery throughout the world to the extent that it can, even as private US citizens, ostensibly without government support (usually true), operate Underground Railroads of varying effectiveness in every country they can.


	2. By Law!

“A man could live with a reptile [slavery], even place his own well-being in the creature’s care. That wasn’t easy, but it could be done. What was truly hard — exhausting, after a while — was the need to keep insisting the scaly damn thing was warm and furry. As if it were a pet instead of a vicious wild beast that could turn on you at any moment.”

— _1824: The Arkansas War_ , Eric Flint

* * *

A pigtailed boy of about eighteen years of age and his father walked, almost stumbling, toward the Tendo dojo. Weary, aching in every joint, filthy, and stinking of sweat — they were more than ready for the dojo’s furo. It had been a very good training trip.

As they turned around the last corner toward home, Ranma heard his name called out and looked around to find a brown-haired boy about his own age running up, one of the few non-martial artists he could claim as something resembling a friend. “Hey, Hiroshi, what’s up?” Ranma asked.

“Ranma, you look like you’ve been out of town for awhile, have you heard about Kuno-dono?” Hiroshi asked eagerly.

Ranma shook his head. “Heard what?”

“He’s dead!” Hiroshi said excitedly.

“Dead!”

“Yeah! Rumor says when his doctors told him he had heart problems he refused to believe them and change his lifestyle. Turns out they were right.”

“Wow,” Ranma said thoughtfully. “So the loon is dead. So what happens to his school?”

“Oh, Tatewaki has already announced that the current level of Kuno support for the family school will continue, he’s directed the Kuno family steward to hire a new principal. So it sounds like we get to keep the top-notch teachers and lose the lunatic in charge — cool, huh?”

“Yeah, almost too good ta be true, there’s gotta be a hitch,” Ranma mumbled, then yawned. “ ‘Scuse me, been a great trip, gonna need a good night’s sleep ta recover. Catch ya at school tomorrow?”

Hiroshi nodded. “Yeah, sure, sorry. Just thought you’d like to know as soon as possible.”

Ranma chuckled. “Ya mean ya couldn’t wait ta be the first ta tell me. Don’t worry ‘bout it, see ya tomorrow.” Hiroshi waved and headed off down the road, and the two Saotomes moved on wearily, their destination now in sight.

As the Saotomes walked through the gate toward the front door, Ranma felt something in him relax and instantly glanced at his father out of the corner of his eye. Sure enough, the bald martial artist was stealthily setting up for a lock-and-throw. Ranma simply shifted his right arm into a position to block, and Genma huffed in disappointment. “You’re getting observant, boy.”

“And you’re gettin’ predictable,” Ranma responded, then glanced to his left and ahead to see Kasumi on her knees tending to the flowers lining the walk. “Hey, Kasumi, how’s it goin’?” he called out, then stumbled when she looked up at the approaching pair.

Kasumi looked ghastly: her hair was dull and disheveled, her eyes were puffy and leaking tears, her cheeks rubbed a bit raw, and the smile she’d pasted on was a horrible caricature of her normal serene expression.

“Kasumi, what’s wrong?” Ranma asked, kneeling down beside the older girl.

She sat back on her heels and scrubbed at her face. “Father committed seppuku last night, with Akane as his second,” she said.

The Saotomes gaped at the ponytailed girl. “Seppuku? Why?!” Genma asked.

“He felt his failures as family head and the sensei of the dojo demanded it, to satisfy honor,” Kasumi responded quietly. “And it bought us another week for mourning rituals.”

“Another week? What happens in a week?” Ranma asked as gently as he could.

Kasumi flinched. “Ask Nabiki, she’s in her room. She can explain better than I can,” she responded. “Just don’t try to ask Akane — she performed well last night, but she ... she is not yet whole.”

Ranma nodded, then abruptly pulled the erath-haired girl into a hug.

Kasumi clung to him for a long moment, then pushed him away. “Go,” she ordered, “you need to learn what’s going on.” Then, as Ranma rose and he and his father hurried toward the front door, Kasumi called out with a tremulous laugh, “But first get cleaned up, you stink!”

/\

Hastily cleaned and dressed in a fresh set of his usual red and black Chinese clothing, with Genma at his side, Ranma knocked on Nabiki’s door, to be answered by a shouted, “Go away, I’m busy!”

“Nabiki, it’s Ranma,” the pigtailed boy responded. “Kasumi said you’d tell us what’s going on.”

There was a long silence, then the sound of a chair being pushed back. The door flew open, and the middle Tendo threw herself into a stunned Ranma’s arms. “You’ve been gone a month!” she shouted into his shoulder. “Where have you been?!”

“I told you all when we left that it would be a month,” Genma asserted impatiently. “So what happened?”

The pageboy-styled girl sighed and let go of Ranma, and motioned the two into her room. She headed back to her computer while they sat on her bed. Ranma examined the middle Tendo as she sat down with her chair backwards and slouched down with her arms on the chair’s back. He was almost as shocked at what he saw as he had been by Kasumi. Unlike her older sister Nabiki was as neat as ever, but something about her had died — the sharp, alert, slightly mocking personality that had seemed to live behind her eyes was gone, replaced by a dull, guilty, hopeless look.

“Yeah, you did tell us,” she muttered. “That’s partly why Dad ... though what you can do ...” She stopped, took a deep breath, and straightened. “All right, I don’t know what you can do, but here’s what happened.

“It started with Kuno-dono’s death less than a week after you left. Tatewaki observed the traditional week of mourning, and then assumed his new position as lord of the Kuno estates. Have you heard about the school?” The two Saotomes nodded, and Nabiki continued, “That was his first act as lord. His second was to spring a trap that his personal accountants must have been planning for months, and I didn’t see a hint of it coming.”

“Nabiki —” Ranma started, but the middle Tendo stopped him with an upheld hand.

“I _didn’t_ see it,” she harshly insisted. “I don’t know how I could have, or what I could have done if I had, but it was _my_ job to handle the family’s financial affairs and I didn’t get even so much as a hint! You see, the Kuno family’s financial handlers, at Tatewaki’s orders, bought up the Tendo debt — _all_ of it, including the loans I picked up through cover identities and thought safely hidden. He’s demanded that the two ‘loves of his life’ ” — her lips twisted — “be freed of the influence of the ‘foul sorcerer Saotome’ to accept joining his service as full service, permanent slaves or ...” she paused and gulped, then finished softly, “he will have all the family assets sold to pay off the acquired debts — including the family — immediately. We would have been seized this morning, if father hadn’t committed seppuku yesterday and given us a week for mourning. All three of us tried to talk Father out of it, but he insisted — he said his total failure as a father and sensei required it, and that it would give you time to get here and save us.”

For a long moment the two Saotomes simply sat and stared at her, then Ranma shook himself out of his befuddlement and asked, “How bad is it?”

“It’s as bad as it can be,” Nabiki answered. “I’ve been playing off one loan against another, doing whatever it took to keep us afloat for a couple of years. I was sure I could keep it up until you took over the dojo and opened classes again, but —” She broke off with a half-sob, but when Ranma moved toward her, her glare froze him in place.

“Anyway,” she continued, “I figure that if we sell off all the property and all three of us sisters as temporary, limited use slaves, the debts will be fully paid off in _maybe_ twenty years, more likely thirty — especially if Kuno pushes down the bidding at the slave auction by letting it be known that we’re marked as his. At which time, we’d all three be out on the streets, going on forty to fifty years old, with only the shirts on our backs.

“Of course, if we went for temporary full use status, we could hold onto the property and pay off the debt in maybe five or ten years — but Akane would be certain to be acquired by Kuno. I doubt he’d be able to hold down the price, but for me and Kasumi he wouldn’t want to and he’d pay whatever it took to buy Akane’s contract. Hells, that alone would probably bring in enough to bring it down to five years,” she finished bitterly.

The Saotome men simply sat and stared for a long moment, then Ranma stood. “So we have six days ta come up with an answer?” he asked. At Nabiki’s affirmative he headed for the door, his father following him. He called over his shoulder, “Don’t worry, Nabiki, yer dad’s death won’t be wasted.”

“You have a plan?” she asked, hope warring with the guilt and despair in her eyes.

He turned in the doorway, stepping out of his father’s way to smile back at her reassuringly. “Not yet,” he said confidently, “but I will — count on it.”

/oOo\

Ranma lay on his back on the roof of the Tendo home and stared up at the peaceful stars that had been his friends for so many years, most of those years his only friends. He heard a soft thud to his right and turned to find Akane rising from her jump to the rooftop, and sat up as she walked toward him. His raven-haired fiancée sat down beside him, and for a time the two simply stared out into the night.

Finally, Akane said, “You didn’t come see me when you got back.”

“Kasumi said not ta bother ya about what happened, to ask Nabiki. And after she told us well … I’ve been up here thinkin’.” He turned to look at the youngest Tendo, and added, “But you’re right, what ya had ta do — I should a’ come see ya. I’m sorry.”

Akane drew in a shuddering breath and hugged her knees to her chest. Ranma put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him, and laid her head on his shoulder. “It’s all right,” she murmured, “I’ve given up on you demonstrating any social graces.”

For a time, the two sat with Akane leaning against her fiancé and staring silently out across Nerima. Finally she asked, “So have you come up with a plan?” She felt Ranma’s nod along the top of her head.

“Yeah, I have,” the aqua-transexual boy responded.

“So what is it?” she softly asked when he failed to continue.

“I can’t tell ya yet, there’s some people I need ta talk to first, see if it’ll work.” Ranma answered quietly. _Besides,_ he thought, _ya aren’t gonna like it at all, why spoil the moment?_

/oOo\

In the kitchen of possibly the most popular hole-in-the-wall restaurant in Nerima district, the Cat Café (though a certain okonomiyaki chef might dispute the claim), a small, wrinkled, old, white-haired Chinese woman bounced around from stove to counter to shelves, preparing for the morning rush. With all the energy she was putting into her labors, a casual spectator would never have known that she was badly distracted and going through the motions as her mind focused on a raven-haired, pigtailed boy. The news of what was happening with the Tendos wasn’t yet widely known, but in restaurants customers talk, and a certain purple-haired beauty’s broken Japanese covered a level of comprehension and sharp mind few people recognized. So the Chinese Amazons that owned and staffed the Cat Café knew of the new Kuno-dono’s move against the Tendos, and in the kitchen Ku Lon was pondering — and dreading — the probable results when Ranma returned and learned of the foreclosure and Soun’s death.

Suddenly the sound of someone hammering on the café’s front door jolted the Amazon elder from her thoughts. Pausing, Ku Lon listened and nodded in satisfaction as she heard one of her assistants approaching the door. “Honored customer, café not yet open,” she heard her heir say in the soft, musical voice that charmed customers and brought the tips rolling in (the former war -leader carefully ignored the part played by her heir’s skimpy, tight-fitting clothing). “Please come back one hour, and we give special treat.”

“Shampoo, it’s Ranma,” returned the voice of the boy Ku Lon had just been obsessing about. “I need ta talk ta the ol’ ghoul, an’ it can’t wait.”

Ku Lon briefly closed her eyes with a sigh, as Xian Pu, worry carefully hidden as befitted an elder- and war-leader-in-training, appeared in the doorway. “Great-grandmother, Ranma —”

“I heard, child. Let him in, I will be out momentarily. Have Mu Tse put up the ‘closed for emergency until further notice’ sign, there’s no telling how long this will take.”

“Yes, great-grandmother,” Xian Pu replied and vanished back into the dining room yelling for ‘stupid Mousse’ while Ku Lon started turning off all the burners on the stove.

/\

“So I got a plan, but I need yer help,” Ranma finished from where he sat across from possibly his primary arch-nemesis, her purple-haired heir seated on one side of her great-grandmother and Xian Pu’s love-besotted would-be husband Mu Tse on the other.

Ku Lon leaned forward and gazed speculatively at the pigtailed boy. “I must say I am surprised to find you here, son-in-law,” she mused. “I would have thought that with such a tale you would be charging into the Kuno estate seeking that delusional idiot’s head.”

“Yeah, that’s what I started ta do,” Ranma responded. “But on the way there a thought occurred ta me — what happens after I kill him? It’s not like the debt just disappears.”

“A good thought,” Ku Lon said approvingly. _Finally, the boy is beginning to think!_ “And what happens then?”

“It’d depend on Kodachi,” Ranma said. “If she really thinks that I’m in love with her and stickin’ with Akane out a’ honor, then nothin’ changes fer the Tendos except the offer fer a way out switches ta me marrying Kodachi, instead. If she really knows I l-l-l-like Akane” — beside Ku Lon, Xian Pu flinched slightly — “then the demand probably includes her moving away, too.”

“And this is not an improvement?” the Amazon elder questioned.

Ranma gave a sharp, bitter bark of laughter. “Yeah, it looks like it oughta be, right? The problem is, while Kuno’s a delusional idiot, at least he has a sense of honor. Kodachi, though, she’d probably insist I marry her first, and what if she decides the debt would make a good hold, just in case? We’d never get out from under.”

“So challenge the delusional fool!” Mu Tse asserted. “Offer him his ‘pigtailed goddess’ if you lose and forgiveness of the Tendo debt and abandonment of his pursuit of Akane if you win.”

Ranma laughed again, more light-heartedly this time, shaking his head at Mu Tse. “Maybe Shampoo ought ta try that with you, see how well it works! No, he’d just refuse ta admit I beat him — the only way that’ll change is if I kill him an’ let him talk it over with Kami-sama, an’ then we’re back ta Kodachi.”

“ _Airen_ bring Tendo girls to China, to village,” Xian Pu burst out. “Then Tendos safe, Shampoo have _Airen_ , all good!”

Ku Lon stiffened. _Here it comes,_ she thought as she watched Ranma. _I’ll have to tell him ‘no’, and Xian Pu will be a long time forgiving me_.

But Ranma just sat and gazed at Xian Pu. Then, when she began to squirm, finally Ranma answered simply, “No.”

The aged matriarch stared at him in shock.

“But why _Airen_ no do this?” the purple-haired girl demanded incredulously, and Ranma shrugged.

“ ‘Cause if yer village elders are smart they’d throw us out, and if they didn’t it wouldn’t be safe. Kuno may only be a lord, but thanks to the Hawaii plantations he’s the richest lord in the Empire. He’d have no problem hirin’ a small army ta come after us, and the Joketsuzoku ain’t _that_ far inta China. And the Chinese don’t have anything on the border ta stop him. Why should they? The area’s so out a’ the way, not even smugglers use it — the only reason the Shogun hasn’t snatched it up is he doesn’t want it. No, Kuno’d just keep throwin’ people at us ‘til he won, or he weakened the village to the point the Musk finish the job for him. The Tendos could end up _hoping_ that he wins, or surrender to his men — it’d probably be better than what the Musk would do ta them.

“And that’s assumin’ we actually get there, he’s got people watching the dojo. Me and pop can lose ‘em easy, Akane maybe, Nabiki and Kasumi forget it.”

Ku Lon nodded, ignoring her great-granddaughter’s intreating look. “Well reasoned, son-in-law, when you actually use your mind for things besides fighting you do very well — as things stand the Tendos cannot use the village as a refuge. But there is another option, what of the Underground Railroad that I have heard of, that the Americans run? Could you not seek refuge there? Considering how the American propaganda rails against slavery — sexual slavery especially, which is what Kuno is insisting on — I would think they would be happy to help you, and the United States is _much_ farther away than China.”

Ranma asked, “Do you know how to contact ‘em?” He chuckled as Ku Lon simply shook her head. “Well, I do.” As the other three stared he shrugged. “Hey, I ain’t a part a’ the Underground, but I agree with ‘em on slavery and I’ve helped them out a time or two.

“Still, it wouldn’t work. First, there’s the same problem with gettin’ the Tendos ta China — not near as bad, but it’s there, and the Underground doesn’t need that kinda heat, either.

“But even if that weren’t true, there’s another problem — the reason the Shogun’s investigators have never been all that concerned about the Underground Railroad. Ya see, the US are on the other side of an ocean. That means any slaves smuggled ta the US have ta be taken by boat or plane, an’ that _really_ cuts down on the number a’ escaped slaves that can be taken out. An’ _that_ means there’s a waiting list. Sure, if I asked the Tendos’d go on the list, but it’s a long one, and the only way they’d jump ta the head a’ the line is ‘cause of abuse. From what Nabiki said on how fast they’d get the debt paid off, if they went fer full service they’d probably be free before their names came up.”

Ku Lon smiled and shook her head. “Very well, you’ve told us all the escapes that _won’t_ work, so what _will_ work and what is our part in it?”

Ranma shrugged. “It’s simple enough — he’s gonna get one a’ the slaves he’s demanded, just not the one he expects right now.”

The three Amazons stared at him, Mu Tse in confusion, the other two in dawning horror. Stuttering, Xian Pu asked, “ _A-A-Airen_ not mean become g-girl-type slave of Sword Boy?”

Ranma nodded. “Yep, that’s exactly what I mean. I figure I’ll tell him that if he writes off all the Tendo debt and swears on his honor ta leave Akane alone he’d get his pigtailed girl as a slave an’ the ‘foul sorcerer’ disappears, while if he doesn’t Akane would probably kill herself before she’d allow him ta own her and he’d never see his pigtailed girl again. He’ll go along.”

“But Ranma,” Ku Lon protested as Xian Pu curled up in her seat, hiding her face, “Kuno will demand that the slavery be full service, and with the level of debt the Tendos owe it’ll be the next thing to permanent. Besides, sooner or later his delusions will force him to again pursue Akane, whatever oath he swears.”

“True, I’m counting on it,” Ranma agreed, nodding. “When that happens I’ll be in the perfect position ta deal with him — on the inside a’ the Kuno household, with the Tendo debt cleared.”

“And what of the curse?” Mu Tse asked. “Sooner or later hot water will find you, however hard you try to avoid it. What then?”

“I suspect that is why we are having this conversation,” Ku Lon said dryly, “is it not, Ranma?”

Ranma nodded. “One a’ the reasons, yeah. I need ta get the curse locked an’ figured you’d know how ta do it — an’ not the Cat’s Tongue, just avoiding hot water won’t work. Though it’d be nice if the curse could be unlocked later.”

“Yes,” Ku Lon said thoughtfully, “I can do it. I’ll have to go shopping for some unusual ingredients and the preparations will take several days, but it can be done.” _And keep you at least a friend of the Joketsuzoku, if nothing else._ “As for unlocking it later — possibly. The curse does not like to be tampered with, and while we have a way to reverse the potion, the effects are ... chancy. Sometimes it works immediately, sometimes not at all, sometimes it waits anywhere from a few days to a few years before unlocking. And sometimes it changes the trigger — makes the water needed hotter, or colder, or not water at all — once, it was an emotional state that activated the curse, and another that reversed it.

“But Ranma, there is something you are forgetting — the Adjustment all slaves in the Empire go through. The sexual Adjustment for full use slaves won’t make a difference, but the general Adjustment to protect masters from being attacked will. When Kuno returns to his pursuit of Akane, you will be unable to attack him.”

“Nah, I didn’t forget,” Ranma said, “that’s the other reason I’m here. I figure there’s a way ta break the Adjustment, the Cat Fist. But I’ll need Shampoo’s help.”

Xian Pu raised a tear-streaked face and nodded firmly. “Shampoo do whatever needed. Just tell what.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title comes from the song by Steve McDonald, off his “Highland Farewell” album about the Highland Clearances.
> 
> By law, the landlord can become the ghost of every crofter’s home.  
> By law their little cots can be dark dens of dirt and misery.  
> Can law be law, when based on wrong? Can law be law, when for the strong?  
> Can law be law, when landlords stand rack-renting mankind off the land?
> 
> By law, the tax upon their toil is squandered on an alien soil.  
> By law, their daughters, sons and wives are doomed to slavish, drudgery’s lives.  
> By law, all food producing glens are changed from farms to cattle pens.  
> This is your law, whereby a few are shielded in the deeds they do!  
> By law!


	3. Upon the King

Tatewaki Kuno clicked the ‘finished’ button at the bottom of the file he was reading on his office desk monitor, transferring it from the ‘unread’ folder to the ‘read’ one, and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. It had been a long three hours, but he’d _finally_ gotten through the report from the auditing firm he’d hired, on the Kuno family’s Australian holdings. _And it seems I owe our Australian retainers a personal apology,_ he thought bemusedly. _Those who choose to live in that wasteland are disrespectful brutes —_ he grimaced at the memory of his only trip to the province several years back — _but it seems they know more of true honor than any of the other holdings of the Family I’ve examined so far. Only the Hawaiian holdings have less waste and corruption, and father gave_ them _his personal attention — unlike the_ rest _of the Family’s holdings and retainers. Except for the school, of course...._

With a sigh, Kuno straightened and double-clicked on the icon for the next file in the queue. _At least the ‘unread’ stack is finally smaller than the ‘read’ stack,_ he thought with a wry grin, then suppressed a sigh of relief as the intercom on the left arm of his desk warbled softly for his attention. He hit the ‘accept’ button, and smiled as the face of his secretary appeared on the screen built into the desk. _It is truly unfortunate that she is a limited use slave,_ he thought yet again at the sight of the _very_ decorative redheaded limited use temporary slave he’d picked out personally at the first auction he’d attended after the mourning period for his father had ended. Her cost had been high, but she was as intelligent as she was beautiful and was proving to be worth every mon he’d paid. “Yes, Itsuko, what new emergency has sprung up now?” he asked cheerfully.

Itsuko ducked her head in the best bow she could make for such a small camera, and smiled back. “My apologies for interrupting your fascinating studies, Kuno-dono,” she replied, carefully ignoring her master’s snort of amusement, “but you wished to be notified immediately when your steward arrived.”

“Yes, I did. Send him right in.” Kuno hit a button beside the intercom controls and the desk monitor sank out of sight as the office door opened and a large, muscular man stepped in, closed the door behind him, and bowed respectfully. Kuno nodded in return and gestured to one of the pair of chairs in front of his desk. “Kasuse Morimasa, you come in good time — I was beginning to desperately search for an honorable excuse to set aside the records of the Family’s holdings for a time. Do you have the survey I requested of Nerima Lording’s standing?”

“Yes, my lord, I do,” his steward said, reaching over the desk to offer a memory stick.

Kuno grimaced as he accepted it. “More files to study, how generous of you!” The two men chuckled, then Kuno set aside the stick and leaned forward, placing his clasped hands on his desk. “I will study all the files, of course, but please give me your overview of your findings.”

Morimasa nodded without surprise, then leaned back in his chair and rubbed under his lip in thought. “Very well, my lord,” he said finally, “I’ll divide my report into three parts — criminal, economic, and superstructural.” He quirked an eyebrow at his lord, and at Kuno’s nod continued.

“For crime, thanks to the plethora of martial artists that have chosen to make the Nerima Lording their home, violent crime is lower than anywhere else in Edo — it is simply too risky to assault people for criminal purposes when the little old woman hobbling down the street late at night could be the head mistress of some highly effective style that almost no one has ever heard of. That lack of violent crime is balanced to an extent by the constant dueling of students of the various styles, but only rarely do those duels involve bystanders and with a few notable exceptions the property damage is minimal. And since the duels rarely result in fatalities, our law enforcement takes a hands-off approach to the situation.

“However, while _violent_ crime is extremely low, I suspect we have several serious problems — while the otokodate centered in Nerima are not foolish enough to carry out the usual ‘protection services’ that are common in other lordings, they _are_ operating as recruitment centers for other otokodate throughout the Empire — all perfectly legal, but something we will want to see if we can find a way to suppress.

“As well, our law enforcement’s hands-off approach with respect to the martial artists may well be bleeding over into other areas. I have been getting hints for some time that Nerima is a center for illegal houses of prostitution offering ... services ... that have been banned or fall under more general criminal laws. And even worse, we are probably a transshipment point for kidnapped and illegally purchased slaves from other parts of the Empire and beyond, in both directions — both importing foreign slaves and exporting our own.

“I brought my concerns to your father, but he disregarded the rumors. With your permission, I would like to hire an independent contractor to investigate the rumors, and set up a purge and restructuring of the lording law enforcement to be put into effect once we’ve either proven the rumors wrong or shut down the operations in Nerima and rescued what victims we can.”

White with mixed rage and shame, Kuno closed his eyes for a long moment. _Father, when you stood before Amaterasu’s throne with our ancestors by her side, you had much to answer for. I but hope your insanity protected you from the impurity of your actions._ Opening his eyes again, Kuno nodded to his steward. “Do not set anything into motion, but put together a detailed plan of the investigation,” he instructed, waving at the memory stick on his desk, and Morisama nodded and made a note on his PDA. “I do not doubt I will approve it once I have reviewed the relevant files.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Morimasa said softly. “I will update the planning as soon as I leave here.

“Now, for the lording’s economy, we have an enormous wasted resource in the school your father constructed and funded.” Morimasa chuckled at his lord’s grimace. “I know, you see it as an enormous waste of money that your father set up as his personal playground, and you are correct ... at the moment. Thanks to the school, we are producing some of the most highly educated children in the Empire for their age, but your father made no provision for taking advantage of that education once they graduate. As a result, most of those graduates are taking their education to other lordings where opportunities match it.

“What I propose is that we provide tax breaks to specific businesses that will find that education attractive, to entice them to move at least some of their operations here ...”

/\

“... and once the power grid is brought up to modern levels of quality, that will prove even more attractive to the businesses we hope to attract,” the steward finished.

Kuno nodded. “Thank you for a most informative” — he glanced at the clock on the wall — “half hour. I will review the files you brought immediately, then we can discuss in detail which economic initiatives and superstructure improvements we should concentrate on first.”

Morimasa stood and bowed at the implied dismissal. “Very well, my lord. Shall I have Itsuko remind you of our evening sparring session in a timely fashion?”

Just then, Kuno’s intercom warbled and he frowned, pressing the ‘accept’ button. “Yes, Itsuko,” he said with a hint of reproach in his tone when the worried face of his secretary appeared on the view screen.

“My apologies for disturbing you, my lord,” she said hesitantly, “but you instructed that you were to be notified immediately of any call from or of the Tendos.”

Kuno stiffened. _At last! They have accepted my generous terms, and I will finally free the Tendos and the pigtailed girl of their subordination to that ... that ... that demon in human flesh!_ “Of course, transfer the call immediately,” he said eagerly.

“Ah, th-th-there is no c-call,” his secretary stammered, “Tendo Nabiki is here to see you in person, along with a Ranma Saotome.” Then she paled at the expression of hatred that had possessed Kuno’s face.

_The sheer_ gall _of that blot upon the human race,_ Kuno thought. _How_ dare _he foul my very office with his presence!_ After a few moments he shook himself clear of his stunned amazement and said, “Of course, send them in immediately.” Punching the intercom’s ‘off’ button, he turned to Morisama and with a stiff smile added, “Morisama, certainly, on your way out instruct Itsuko to remind me of our session tonight, I look forward to it.”

/\

“ ... so you’d get your ‘pigtailed goddess’, the Tendos are free of all debt, and I disappear,” the bane of Kuno’s existence said from where he stood beside his partner in evil.

Kuno slowly rose to his feet, fighting to restrain his need to throw himself over the desk and smash that self-confident smirk from the sorcerer’s face. “You _dare_ to toy with those girls’ lives, to force me to choose one over the other?” he whispered.

Ranma shrugged. “Those are the terms, take ‘em or leave ‘em.”

Kuno looked over at the brown-haired girl standing by his side. “And you!” he growled. “I know greed rules your life, but does family mean nothing to you, that you would keep your own sister from her life’s purpose, her greatest desire!?”

Nabiki paled and her fists clenched. For a moment Kuno thought he’d gotten through to her, but she simply forced herself to relax, crossed her arms and returned his glare. “When I need advice on caring for my family, you’ll be the last person I ask,” she replied through gritted teeth. “Now, do you take the deal and get one of the two girls you lust after, and have Ranma disappear from your life, or do you lose them both?”

“Lust? Lust!” Kuno shouted, pounding on his desk. “Nay, but they are the treasures of my life, the light of my world! How can you say that I am ruled by nothing but base desire!? How can you force me to choose one over the other!?”

“Again, those are the terms — take one, or get nothing,” Nabiki said, voice cold, her anger from a moment before vanished as if it had never existed.

Kuno stared at her for a long moment then slowly sank back into his seat. “No,” he said after a time, looking over at Ranma. “No, you cannot to be trusted. There must be some trick.”

“If there’s a trick, then you’ll find it eventually and be free of yer vow, able ta pursue Akane again,” Ranma pointed out.

_He is right there,_ Kuno thought, looking at the offer from every angle, trying to find the catch and unable to come up with one — except possibly ... how would this look to his enemies? “No,” Kuno said, straightening up. “You seek to besmirch my reputation, to cause others to doubt my honor, to hinder me in bringing justice again to Nerima by offering what would seem to the ignorant to be a blatant pay-off. Instead — is the pigtailed girl a member of the Tendo clan?”

The two plotters before him exchanged glances, then Ranma cautiously said, “Yesss ... she’s on the Tendo family register as a cousin.”

Kuno nodded firmly. “Very well, I will be willing to accept her as the sole member of the Tendo clan responsible for the debt, to be put up for auction as is typical in such cases — as a full use temporary slave. The rest of the Tendos will be free of all legal obligations.”

Ranma and Nabiki stared, then Ranma looked over at Nabiki. “Well? You’re the brains when it comes ta financial matters, do we take it?”

Nabiki winced, a flash of ... no, that couldn’t have been guilt, it was well known that the Ice Queen cared for nothing but lucre. But whatever that expression had been, she slowly nodded. “I’ll want to look over the final paperwork before we sign anything, but it’s actually an improvement. If all else fails, you ... my cousin would be free in as little as fifteen years, depending on how the auction goes.”

“All right,” Ranma said, looking back at Kuno, “we’ll take it. Have the papers drawn up and we’ll sign ‘em.”

“Actually, Ranma,” Nabiki said, “ _Ranko_ will have to sign them, since she’s the one that’ll be going up on the block as a full use slave.” _Good thing we left ‘Ranko’s’ name on the family register after Nodoka found out about the deception,_ Nabiki thought with bitter irony.

“Ranko?” Kuno asked, bewildered.

Nabiki sneered. “All this time, and you never bothered to learn the name of the girl you’ve been chasing?”

 “What need is there to name the center of your universe?” he asked, waving off her scorn, and Nabiki rolled her eyes.

Ranma looked around, then nodded to a door off to the side. “Washroom?” he asked.

“Yes,” Kuno said coldly, “why?”

“If ya don’t know by now, there’s no point in tellin’ you — again,” Ranma said with a shrug and to Kuno’s outrage walked into the washroom without asking leave. The sound of water running in the sink could be heard briefly, then the door opened again and Kuno felt his world brighten as the fiery girl of the blazing mane walked out into the room.

“My love!” Kuno shouted, rising to his feet and advancing toward her, only to freeze when she stared at him, her gaze as coldly emotionless as arctic ice.

“Let’s get this over with and get out a’ here,” the redheaded girl said to Nabiki.

Kuno turned away to sit back down. “So you are still under the power of that foul sorcerer,” he said as a few tears rolled down his cheeks. “But soon, that enemy of all things virtuous will be banished and then you will be free to seek your own path at my side — victory is mine!”

Ranko choked but said nothing, and a cold-faced Nabiki said, “Get your lawyer in here, and let’s get it done — I need some fresh air.”

/\

The redheaded girl signed the last of the papers and shoved them away, then tossed the pen across the table into Kuno’s lap. “There ya go,” she said, her voice tightly controlled. “Send yer goons around ta the dojo in three days ta collect yer hostage fer Adjusting.” Standing without waiting for a response, she stalked out of the meeting room with Nabiki hastily following on her heels.

Soon, they were out of the Nerima lording government offices and striding down the street, Ranma only slowing her walk to something Nabiki was comfortable with when she heard her panting. Finally, Ranma broke the silence with a bitter laugh. “Incredible. I swear, it’s like that man lives in a completely different universe than the rest of us.”

“He does,” Nabiki said softly as her breathing slowed, “one where he’s one of the noble samurai of old, or lords now, I suppose, since he’s replaced his father. The scary thing is that it’ll probably make him a fine lord for as long as he lasts, his need to meet his own self image will see to that.”

“For as long as he lasts,” Ranma repeated coldly. “And now for the hard part,” she said added a touch of trepidation.

“What we just went through was _easy_?” Nabiki asked in astonishment.

Ranma shook her head with a forced chuckle. “Oh, that was hard enough, but now we gotta tell the families what we’ve done.”

Freezing, Nabiki swayed in place as her the blood drained from her face. “Oh, kami, I’d managed to forget about that,” she moaned. After a moment she realized Ranma was waiting for her a few steps down the sidewalk and rejoined the petite redhead. “At least you got some practice from telling Ukyo what you’re doing.” Glancing at her companion walking at her side, Nabiki asked, “Why did you tell her first, anyway?”

“ ‘Cause it was easier — practice fer the main event,” Ranma replied with a shrug. Then, her impatience finally getting the better of her, she said, “It’s almost dinnertime, let’s get there in time ta actually enjoy Kasumi’s cooking before we ruin everyone’s day.” Sweeping Nabiki off her feet, she leaped to the roof of the nearest house and set off across the rooftops toward the dojo with the middle Tendo in her arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title comes from one of my favorite Shakespeare monologues, in Henry V Act IV, Scene 1.


	4. Breaking the Bad News

“We’re home!” Ranma and Nabiki called out as they stepped into the front hallway, pausing to chang their shoes, both girls damp from the light shower that had caught them while roof-hopping home.

“Oh, you’re finally back!” came a voice from the direction of the kitchen, and girls stiffened — that hadn’t been Kasumi’s voice. Then a beautiful redheaded middle-aged version of Ranma came around the corner toward them.

“Mom!” “Auntie Nodoka!” the two girls chorused.

Ranma’s mother walked up to them and bowed to Nabiki. “I was sorry to learn of your father’s death,” she said soberly. “His end was honorable, but too early.”

Nabiki returned the bow. “Thank you,” she said. “Now Father has rejoined Mother, as he has longed for these twelve years — something to rejoice at even if we will miss him.”

“Of course, dear,” Nodoka said with a sad smile, and turned to Ranma. “Ranma, Genma told me when he called that you are working on a way to save the Tendos from Kuno-dono. Have you thought of a way?”

Ranma nodded. “Yeah, I did, and after askin’ around today it’ll work. I’ll tell everyone what it is after dinner.”

Nodoka nodded, face serene, though her concern showed in the sharp glance she sent her currently-dughter. “Very well, dinner is ready. Would you two get Akane from her room and Genma from the dojo while Kasumi and I set up the table?”

“Sure, I’ll get Akane as soon as I get some hot water,” Ranma agreed, and headed for the kitchen.

Nabiki rolled her eyes. “I suppose I can’t begrudge the division of labor. I’ll go get Genma,” she called to Ranma’s retreating back. Then, turning back to Nodoka, she softly said, “Kasumi, Akane and I wanted to keep you out of this mess, but I’m glad you’re here. Thank you.”

“I could wish you had called me in immediately, and especially after Soun committed seppuku, but I understand your reasoning and am grateful you wished to protect me,” Nodoka said. “But we are going to be family, and family should support each other.”

Nabiki carefully didn’t flinch. “You’re right, Auntie Nodoka, family should look out for each other. I’m glad you’re here now. I’ll go get Genma.” The two headed down the hall, separating as Nodoka turned toward the kitchen and Nabiki continued out of the house toward the dojo.

When Nodoka had told her that Genma was in the dojo, Nabiki had expected to find him running through katas. So, when she quietly stepped through the doorway, she was surprised to find the stout middle-aged man kneeling on the floor, eyes fixed on the small family shrine and apparently oblivious to all else. She simply stood there watching for a few minutes, but Genma failed to acknowledge her presence and finally she coughed slightly. At the sound, Genma started and turned his head to look at her, and Nabiki was stunned speechless at the tear streaks running down his cheeks.

When she failed to say anything, Genma smile slightly. “Yes?” he asked in a surprisingly normal tone.

Nabiki shook herself out of her shock and said softly, “I’m sorry to disturb you, Uncle Genma, but Auntie Nodoka says that dinner is ready.”

Genma nodded and rose smoothly to his feet. “Thank you,” he said simply, and strode by her toward the house, Nabiki quickly following.

The two met Ranma and Akane at the foot of the stairs, the pigtailed boy and youngest Tendo with their arms around each other’s waist, and the four sat down at the family room’s low table as Nodoka and Kasumi, red-eyed but looking much better than she had the previous day, brought in the last of the dishes for the meal.

/\

Nodoka looked around the table and nodded, satisfied that everyone was more or less finished. It had been an odd dinner — no speed-eating contest between Genma and Ranma with insults to match, no verbal sparring match between Ranma and Akane with sardonic comments being tossed in by Nabiki, no talking at all, just silence as everyone ate.

But the meal was finally over, and it was time to give the curiosity Nodoka had been firmly sitting on free rein. Putting down her chopsticks, she looked over at her son, sitting across from her with Nabiki on one side and Akane on the other. “Everyone is finished eating,” she said to Ranma. “I believe it is time to tell us of the solution you have come up with.”

Everyone else except Nabiki turned to stare at the pigtailed boy, and he and Nabiki exchanged glances before Ranma reluctantly nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. But first, let Nabik tell ya what _won’t_ work — it’ll save time after. Then I’ll tell ya what we’ve worked out.”

Nodoka paled while Akane stiffened, then with a worried look at Ranma slipped an arm around his waist — if he and Nabiki were shortcutting protests, this wasn’t going to be good.

It wasn’t. “... then, when Kuno breaks his word — and he will, sooner or later — I’ll be in a position ta deal with it. After that, Nabiki says I should be freed in around five ta ten years—assumin’ I’m not charged with murder,” Ranma said, then looked around at the stunned faces. Kasumi had tears streaming down her face. Nodoka didn’t, though her face had paled and it was obvious that under the low table she was gripping her husband’s hand. And Akane ... Ranma repressed a flinch at the uncomprehending pain in her eyes.

For a few minutes no one spoke, then finally Genma asked, “And the Adjustment you’ll undergo before they put you up for auction?”

“Already got it handled,” Ranma said. “When the time comes it won’t be a problem.”

Then, looking at his father steadily, Ranma added, “Pop, this’ll get Kuno off a’ Akane’s back and the Tendos out a’ debt, but it won’t bring in more money and Nabiki says she won’t be able ta do that herself anymore — too much attention. But she says the family will be able ta get by if the dojo reopens for classes. Can ya do that — teach the classes?”

Genma nodded solemnly as his wife’s grip on his hand tightened. “Of course, boy. I’ll see to it that my old friend’s daughters are taken care of. And once the debt is paid, there will be a home for you to return to.”

“How ... how long until ...” Nodoka managed to ask past the lump in her throat.

“Tomorrow Cologne’s gonna be gettin’ what she needs ta lock the curse,” her son responded. “The next morning she’ll lock it, so the magic will have time ta settle before I’m processed. Kuno’s goons’ll be by ta get me by noon the next day.”

Finally shaking off her own shock, Akane burst out, “Ranma, please, there’s got to be another way!”

“No, Akane, there isn’t,” Ranma said as softly as he could. “And even if there is a way I missed, it’s too late — I gave Kuno my word, and until he breaks his part of our agreement that’s that.”

“You and your honor!” Akane snarled, then rose and ran from the room. Ranma sat and stared after her as they listened to the sound of her footsteps receding down the hall then up the stairs. Silence fell, until Kasumi spoke up.

“Go to her, Ranma,” the matronly Tendo said softly, wiping at her cheeks. “You have so little time together, before ... Don’t waste any of it.”

Ranma nodded without a word, then rose and walked out of the family room. As the sound of his footsteps started up the stairs, Nodoka buried her face in her husband’s shoulder, and he let go of her hand to pull her into a hug as her own tears finally came.

/oOo\

**By Tman  
**

Her hands going through the motions of cleaning up her shop, Kounji Ukyo fought to make sense of how her world had just been torn apart.

Just a few hours ago, Ranma and Nabiki had quietly come in during a lull in business. She had greeted them both enthusiastically, the former because she hadn’t seen him in a while, the latter because she was glad to see the middle Tendo sister finally out and about after the Tendo patriarch’s death. She figured Ranchan had dragged Nabiki out for some much-needed relaxation.

One look at both their faces had told her otherwise; a bomb was about to be dropped.

She just didn’t realize Ranma would be the main casualty....

She’d listened as he had quietly explained what had happened, and what would happen, and she’d somehow managed to restrain her alternating shock, rage, and fear. He’d stood up finally, given her a hug, rejoined Nabiki, who’d remained silent throughout the entire exchange, and then stepped out of her business. She was too benumbed with shock to follow, to accost him, to scream at him, slap him, demand he run with her for the hills ... anything ... all she could do was stand there, until the smell of burning okonomiyaki had forced her attention elsewhere, and by the time she’d looked up again he was gone.

She had closed early today, and was now cleaning up the place, trying to make sense of what she’d learned, and coming to some frightening realizations.

For all the years that she had hunted Ranma, masqueraded as a boy, and worked along the edges of society, Ukyo had been aware of the Imperial slavery system. But it had been an abstract to her — it happened to other people, people who had made wrong choices, weren’t lucky, weren’t fast and smart enough, people who deserved it ... never to her and those she associated with.

Now, it had become all too real to her. All those years of being mostly on her own, she was now aware that she had been walking a razor’s edge. It would have been all too easy to slip into debt, to annoy the wrong person, to fall into a position where it might have been her going on the auction block to pay off owed debts, her mind altered to make her less rebellious and more pliable. She’d been unknowingly walking in a crosshairs, and that frightened her.

And with that fear came the crushing knowledge that she had little if any safety net as an independent businesswoman ...

... and the even more devastating knowledge that Ranma wouldn’t be there to save her if that happened. He had chosen to sacrifice his freedom for the Tendos. He had chosen Akane over her....

That thought had triggered another realization. Ranma might have chosen another over his ‘cute fiancée’, but he wasn’t riding off into the ‘happily ever after’ of many a romantic daydream. He was giving up _everything_ , his freedom, his manhood, and the chance to be with those he loved, possibly forever, to be the slave and likely sex toy of one they’d all thought a blustering annoyance, a harmless obsessed fool who was no match for Ranchan’s martial prowess. Only now, the blustering fool had managed to outmaneuver him on a battlefield none of them had much experience on. A battlefield Ranchan couldn’t study or train up on before ... before ...

Growing up as a boy, learning their ways, the better to fit in, Ukyo was aware of the hormonal currents that ran through them, the dawning lusts she’d observed. She’d seen even polite and well-mannered boys talk of their fantasies, of the things they’d do if they had a slave of their own — especially a full-use slave — to command.

And Kuno was lust personified, wrapped in the trappings of privileged nobility and arrogant power. He spoke in the honeyed cultured words of aristocracy, but he was at heart, she now saw, a predator, obsessed with his own appetites ... and now there would be nothing between him and the satisfaction of his desires.

So even as she raged that Ranma had chosen another and the reclamation of her family honor had become that much more difficult, if not impossible, she also felt a growing cold fear for her childhood friend ... what Ranchan would be sacrificing, what he ... no, what _she_ ... what she’d be facing, and what she’d be forced to endure....

Wiping at her eyes became a futile exercise as the kitchen around her blurred in a fog of tears. Her cleaning forgotten, Ukyo fell to the floor, her arms wrapped around herself as she succumbed to her emotions.

It was much later that she managed to pull herself together, still trembling, but at least able to function. Her thoughts and emotions had gone through a hellride and she wasn’t sure she would ever be totally okay ever again.

But one thought burned in her mind.

Just as she’d never given much thought to the institution of slavery, she’d never really paid much attention to the Underground Railroad save as a vague abstraction, an amusing myth like the Yeti, onis, the Loch Ness Monster, or the Japanese abolitionist movement.

As soon as she made sure she was reasonably financially secure, she was going to hunt up the Railroad. She’d join their ranks, she’d fight to make a difference....

Ranchan wasn’t going to be fighting alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes the first material added to the original story at Anime Addventures by Tman. Tman's contributions added quite a bit of complexity to the story, and IMHO improved it considerably.


	5. Counting the Hours: First Night

Ranma knocked on Akane’s door, then again when there was no response. Still not hearing anything, he slowly opened the door and looked in to find Akane stretched out on her bed with her face to the wall, shoulders shaking.

The pigtailed boy stood and watched for a few minutes, wondering what he should do. Finally, he sighed and walked over to sit down on the bed by his former fiancée. Reaching out, he gently stroked her hair. Akane stiffened at the touch, but otherwise gave no sign she was aware of his presence. “I’m so sorry, Akane, believe me. But I just couldn’t come up with another way. The thought of you and yer sisters as slaves ...” He choked up and fell silent.

For a moment longer Akane failed to respond, then she abruptly sat up and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. Gently, Ranma pulled her onto his lap and rocked her as she wept, running a hand up and down her back.

Akane eventually ran out of tears and for a time the two simply sat in silence. Finally, she straightened up and pulled away enough to look Ranma in the face. “So, Kuno’s goons will be showing up three mornings from now?” Ranma nodded, and she smiled tremulously. “All right, that means we need to make the next couple of days as memorable as possible. There’s movies, ice skating, the arcade, ice cream, maybe a picnic, and if we’re lucky Ryoga will drop in and you two can fight ...”

Akane’s voice trailed off as Ranma gave a slight chuckle. Her smile faded then, and she whispered, “But tonight’s for something else.” Leaning forward as one hand reached up for the back of Ranma’s head, she pulled him into an inexpert kiss.

For a long moment Ranma was too stunned to respond, then his arms tightened around the raven-haired girl and their kiss deepened until they finally broke apart, gasping for breath.

After a moment, Ranma stuttered, “A-Akane, a-a-are ya sure? I don’t have any condoms, I don’t think yer on birth control ... what if ya get pregnant? I won’t be there ta marry ya or help raise the kid ...”

“I don’t care!” Akane asserted, then paused for a moment. “Actually, I do care ... I _hope_ I get pregnant, to have at least that much that’s you ... and don’t worry about raising the child. If I can’t marry you I’m not marrying anyone, but I’ll have Kasumi and Nabiki to help, and your parents will be bound to get involved, what kid could go wrong with all that?”

“Gee, with Pop involved? Let me count the ways!” Ranma said.

Akane laughed. “Hey, _I’m_ not going to be stupid enough to let him haul the kid off on a years-long training trip!” she mock growled, then leaned in for another long kiss that again left her gasping, though this time not for lack of breath.

Her hands shaking slightly, Akane reached up and began undoing the fastenings to Ranma’s shirt with one hand while her other hand started working its way down the buttons of her blouse, only to have Ranma grab her hands.

“Akane, I ... I don’t know ... I haven’t ...” Ranma broke off, blushing furiously.

“You mean, with all the fiancées throwing themselves at you, you never slept with any of them?” Akane asked incredulously.

Ranma shook his head. “No,” he said quietly. “ _You_ were the fiancée I was interested in, and ya didn’t really want ta have anything ta do with me.”

Akane looked down, shamefaced, then pulled her hands free and resumed opening shirt and blouse. “I was interested, I was just afraid to show it,” she whispered. “The way our fathers acted, you know what would have happened if I had.”

“Yeah, they woulda had us in front of a priest in no time.”

“Right, and I wasn’t ready to get married — I’m still not, not really, but now ... I wish ...”

“Yeah, me too,” Ranma shrugged out of his now open shirt, and slid Akane’s blouse off her shoulders. “But if you’re sure ...” he asked, reaching out to cup one of Akane’s firm breasts, rubbing the nipple through the bra’s fabric.

Akane gasped at the touch, and nodded. “I’m sure,” she said, and quickly stood to slip out of her clothes. Ranma followed her example, and they fell back onto the bed.

For a short while, the two lovers simply explored the bodies they knew by sight (usually followed by a malleting, in past days), hands and mouths roving over breasts, cleft, and cock, accompanied by moans, gasps, sighs, and the occasional yelp.

After what felt like forever and not long enough, Akane slipped a finger down between her legs, along her cleft, between her lower lips, feeling the dampness. _That should be enough,_ she thought, and rolled on her back, spreading her legs and pulling Ranma over on top of her. Getting the hint, Ranma grasped his stiff cock, positioned the head at her opening, and slowly thrust in.

As it turned out, it wasn’t enough, and Akane bit back a yelp of pain as she felt her slightly dry sheath expand to accommodate its intruder. Then Ranma pulled back and plunged into her again, and again and again ... and she was gritting her teeth as intermingled pleasure and pain shot through her from her cleft and clit. Then, as Ranma continued to thrust into her, the pain faded, the pleasure grew, she found herself pushing up to meet her lover’s thrusts — and Ranma stiffened and bellowed, head back, eyes closed, plunging in as deep as he could reach, and Akane felt his seed explode into her, filling her depths and oozing out around his rod to slowly flow down her ass.

Ranma lowered himself down to the side to lie alongside his lover. “That was too quick, wasn’t it?” he muttered. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

Akane sighed and turned on her side to face him. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “The book said the first time might be like that. You — we — will do better next time.”

“Book? What book?” Ranma asked.

Akane stiffened, blushing. “Did I say ‘book’? I meant ... meant ... meant ...” Ranma grinned as Akane frantically searched for another word and failed to find one. “Okay!” she finally mock-growled. “I was thinking about ... what would happen if we got married, and ... I read a book on the subject.”

“Really!’ Ranma exclaimed. “You bad girl, what would Kasumi say?”

Akane grinned impishly. “She said ‘good luck’ ... I borrowed it from her.” Laughing at Ranma’s dumbfounded expression, she added, “There’s a lot more going on under that placid front she puts up than you’d think.”

Ranma shook his head in amazement. “What d’ya know? So, this book, does it have lots of positions, pictures?” Akane nodded, her blush returning, and Ranma grinned. “We’ll have to borrow it for tomorrow night. Tonight, we’ll just have to improvise. Good thing that’s my specialty ... Anything Goes.”

/\

In the room next door, Nabiki continued to stare at the wall above her computer monitor, as she had since Ranma’s bellow had captured her attention — the moans, groans, squeaking bed, etc., she had been able to ignore, but that shout had been a bit much. After a few minutes the gasps and moans started up again, and the middle Tendo shook her head, a sad smile on her face. _Good for you, little sis, give that boy — man — a send-off he’ll treasure, whatever happens._

With a sigh, the pageboy-haired girl turned her attention back to the monitor, determinedly ignoring the sounds from her sister’s room (and a brief stab of envy she firmly suppressed). _So, what can I do to make things easier for Ranma? There isn’t much I can do about what happens to Ranma once Kuno gets his hands on him — her, but maybe I can at least keep an eye on what is happening. Kuno’s servants and retainers have been amazingly loyal, but in this case perhaps I can get an in — they have to know how crazy Kuno is about this, and sympathy should give me an in I haven’t had before. But that just lets us know what’s going on, maybe pass some messages back and forth, it doesn’t do anything to shorten ..._

Suddenly, Nabiki shot bolt upright in her chair. _Wait a minute, I’ve been thinking about this according to what Ranma offered, but Kuno changed the deal! Ranko isn’t going to be a permanent slave, and she’s going to be going up for a public auction! There’s no way someone as wealthy and obsessed as our ‘dear’ lord is going to let himself be outbid, but as it stands he isn’t going to have to bid_ that _much — what commoner is going to offend his lord by bidding against him when he can’t win? And those with enough influence to be protected from Kuno’s anger aren’t going to be personally attending your everyday, common auction, they have servants for that, most of whom probably won’t be there, anyway. All of which means years more that it’ll take Ranko to pay off the debt. But if someone was to start a rumor ... no, too slow, I’ll have to pass the word directly, damn. Ah, well, no avoiding it. So, who do I know of that’s wealthy and politically connected enough to be safe, and either wants Ranma for himself or has a grudge against the Kunos, or both ... ?_

The last of the dull lethargy that failure and guilt had laid on the middle Tendo vanished as her fingers flew over the keyboard, eyes narrowed and burning with a fire that hadn’t been there since before her father drove a tanto into his abdomen. The Ice Queen was back.

/oOo\

**By Tman**   
  


In an unpretentious building nestled among the government structures of the Imperial bureaucratic complex in Edo, in a rather bland-looking office, an unremarkable-looking middle-aged middle management functionary was looking with great interest at the flow of information in one particularly large case file.

It was no secret that the Imperial government spied on its own people; it was to be expected after all, since the various families that made up the Imperial aristocracy routinely spied on each other. The very existence of an aristocracy with any real power, and an Imperial Family on top of it, that wielded real power over them, invited ambition. Somebody was always looking to gain more and put themselves higher up the food chain. Only fools didn’t look to advance their fortunes by hook or crook; to do otherwise was to invite being consumed by those with more ambition and less scruples. Though economic weapons had largely replaced the swords and poisoned daggers of past generations among the modern samurai, the permanent removal of obstacles to power still remained a viable instrument of social advancement. The Imperial Family had kept its seat of power, and its heads, by knowing more about its possible enemies than the opposition did.

But the families of the Imperial aristocracy might be surprised if they knew just how _much_ the Imperial Family’s guardians knew about them ... or, if they did, they were justly frightened in their place. A thinly-veiled threat backed with some damning information often did the work more effectively than a ninja’s blade between the ribs (though of course, that blade was always an exercisable option ... a threat had to have teeth after all). Besides keeping tabs on possible threats to the Imperial Family, the Tokubetsu Koto Keisatsu (‘Special Higher Police’, or the ‘Tokko’ as they were also known) also monitored the currents of activity between the various families, and the up and comers, looking for patterns, trends, and unrest. That way, the Imperial Government would be on top of the various blood feuds, and could play them accordingly, or contain the damage before it upset the increasingly difficult balancing act that was the Empire. The Tokko had to know who was angry at whom, who was willing enough to kill, and who to suspect if blood _was_ shed. Not surprisingly, the Tokko kept a _big_ file on the Kunos. When Old Blood ambition, big economic clout and insanity go together, the government got _very_ interested ... and the last week or so had ramped up that interest. While the suspicious death of the Kuno patriarch was still under investigation, it came as no great surprise to the Tokko. They already had files opened up on the many enemies the Kunos had accumulated; from old hereditary rivals to disgruntled economic competitors, to foreign governments like the United States of America, and groups like the Hawaiian Liberation Army, directed by the Queen-in-exile from her headquarters in California, and the DreamTime Avengers down in Australia.

But what really caught the bureaucrat’s interest was the last twenty-four hours of activity. The name ‘Tendo’ had come up first, then the name ‘Tendo Ranko’ had come up in connection with a declaration of impending debt-enslavement ... and _that_ had opened up another flagged file, under ‘Saotome’; that had been _very_ interesting. The Tokko knew the Kunos’ likely enemies better than the Kunos did, since one never knew when it would be convenient to play rivals against each other, or recruit old enemies to deal with a problem. The Tokko bureaucrat noted that the name ‘Saotome’ had appeared of interest in the files of a number of other Imperial agencies, from the Ministry of the Armed Services, the Foreign Office, and the Keihokyoku (civilian police bureau).

The whole thing looked suspicious but not illegal, much as the more vocal liberals in the Ministries might complain. Nothing the government could overtly do anything about, without more obvious cause. After all, it was a legitimate way of resolving an over-long-held debt, and hadn’t the Imperial Family used similar clauses to bring others into their fold or defuse possible threats?

However, there had then come the messages over the heavily-monitored civilian internet and blogosphere ... unofficial notice of the imminent auction of one Tendo Ranko to any interested parties, and hints at the reasons for it. The Kuno name figured most prominently in statements that stopped just short of actionable accusation.

And it was getting responses....

The bureaucrat-agent raised an eyebrow at some of the responses being routed through his desk top screens. Names were popping up, familiar names to anybody who worked on the Kuno files, and he had drafted additional help to haul out the associated files on the names of particular interest.

**Mendo Shutaro:** Young lord of the Mendo clan, who’d assumed command of his family in name several years before. Mendo was apparently every bit as vain, obsessive, lecherous, and borderline crazy as Kuno Tatewaki was, but where the Kunos bent towards delusional obsession, the Mendos had cultivated a cold calculating aggression instead. The Mendo family was heavy on supplying the armed forces with both men and equipment (the bureaucrat made a note to consult his opposite number in the Kempeitai to see what else they had on the family), and Shutaro himself led the armored section of his large family guard, having spent time as a military cadet before family obligations had led to an honorable discharge. His vanity and womanizing aside, Mendo Shutaro had assumed and revived the long smoldering family-feud with the Kunos after his mother had died under suspicious circumstances. There were also hints that the Mendo lord’s painful claustrophobia was blamed on the Kunos. It all had the makings of a classic duel of opposing equals (militarily, at least), the sort of potential flash-fire situation the Tokko had to keep an eye on.

**Natsume Akiko:** The strong-willed (some would say insanely obsessed, dictatorial, and possibly maniac) woman that was the power behind Mishima Heavy Industries, the powerful military-industrial corporation that held several large defense contracts with the Imperial military. The Natsume-Mishimas had clashed with Kuno-run consortiums on numerous occasions over resources, government contracts, and industrial espionage, but Akiko seemed to hold some extra special grudge against the Kunos. Rumors had it that it somehow involved her estranged husband and son. A hot-headed organizational genius with access to cutting edge weaponry and a private army of loyal samurai, getting interested in the sale of a mere slave, that just happened to involve a hated rival? This warranted closer watching.

**Sanzenin Mikado:** He’d apparently run into ‘Tendo Ranko’ before, as a matter of very public record, and while the Tokko analyst might have dismissed the blond skater-idol’s interest in the slave auction as a mere longing for revenge on a rival, there were other hints of movement in the more widespread Sanzenin family. As empty-headed as Mikado might be, and as spoiled rotten as his habitual partner Shiratori Azusa might be — or appear to be — one ignored the closeness and combined economic clout of the Sanzenin banking cartel and the Shiratori mercantile groups at one’s peril ... and both families were known to have longstanding grudges against the Kunos. Whether it would be merely bankrolling a spoiling attack, a bid for some tail that got away, or whether Sanzenin Mikado was being groomed to take a more serious role in the simmering feud, it bore looking into.

**Masaki Katsuhito:** A humble monk, but one who had several ‘classified’ stamps on his file ... enough to draw the interest of the Tokko bureaucrat, but not enough to satisfy his curiosity. The old man had come to Tokko attention some years ago for public and vocal opposition to the Kunos shortly after the death of his daughter Achiko (also under suspicious circumstances ... the bureaucrat made a note of that). After some turmoil and protest and legal haggling involving Kuno lawyers, the old man had been quiet since, apparently tending to his widowed son-in-law and his orphaned grandson.

Now there seemed to be some activity again on the internet from the Masaki temple; inquiries and requests for more information. A lot more than an old angry temple priest should be generating. Something was up, and it bore watching.

**Meioh Setsuna:** The ‘Witch of the Nikkei’, the financial sorceress and fashion maven who, it was claimed, rivaled some of the blue-blood aristocratic economic blocs for sheer wealth, even though she lacked the court contacts and family connections to have any real political pull. Many had sought her, and some had tried to break and claim her via the same tactics that Kuno had used with the Tendos, but she’d evaded the traps and left her would-be enslavers broken financially and sometimes physically ... money might not be enough to buy a blood-name, but it could buy muscle, and silence. Meioh’s record had as many classified stamps on it as the Masakis’, and what could be viewed made it clear she was mysterious as hell ... and that she _loathed_ the Kunos. It might have gone back to the entrapment attempts and possible involvement on the part of the late elder Kuno, but it really seemed to have started during the Kuno expansion into and economic ‘reorganization’ of the neighboring Juuban district. Something had apparently snapped in Meioh Setsuna, and the few occasions she’d been anywhere near the Kunos in public, Tokko informers had observed the security escorts of both the Kuno and Meioh contingents had been at near-combat alert. Like Masaki, there was increased activity and apparent interest when the Tendo tale had been ‘leaked’, and hints that money was already being shuffled around.

The bureaucrat-analyst would have whistled at the accumulating files, had it not been unprofessional to do so in front of his staffers. Individually any of the aforementioned parties might have been at best an annoyance to the Kuno personal empire, but their sudden attraction to this one event looked to him like an approaching critical mass situation. He’d have to alert his superiors higher up if it showed signs of greater increased activity. And it showed signs of exactly that, if the data-miners calling in with additional contributions were any indication. He prepared to order more files opened and pulled....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes the second of Tman's episodes from the original Anime Addventures, with minor changes in punctuation and formatting.
> 
> And yes, the lemon is rather short and generic. It was early days in my fanfic-writing career, these days it would be more extensive. Maybe someday I'll come back and add to it, but right now I don't have time.


	6. Counting the Hours: Mending Fences

Walking through the front gate to the Tendo Dojo grounds, Ukyo paid the price for not watching where she was going by colliding with an exiting Genma. The earth-haired girl reeled backwards, and only a snake-quick grab by the stout Saotome patriarch kept her from falling.

Ukyo started babbling an apology, but Nodoka standing beside her husband, looked over the exhausted, grief-worn girl and cut Ukyo off by stepping forward and pulling the girl into a hug.

“You know, don’t you?” Nodoka whispered. “What my son is sacrificing to protect the Tendos?”

Stunned speechless, Ukyo nodded against the older woman’s shoulder. Belatedly, she pulled herself together and pushed herself back from the hug. “Yes, he told me yesterday. I am so sorry for ... for ...” She broke off, unable to bring herself to sound like one mourning the dead.

Nodoka nodded calmly. “Thank you,” she responded. “And it looks like you are closer to my son than I suspected. Please, if it gets too much, or you simply want some company, come visit me, here at the dojo. It must get lonely, living alone at that restaurant, and I could use the company as well.”

“Thank you, I will,” Ukyo said with a bow. “I ... I’m here to see Ranma. Is he in?”

The two adults exchanged glances, and Nodoka nodded. “Yes, he is, but he’s still asleep — he and Akane were up late, last night. But I’m sure you can wait for them to wake up, if you wish. Let me find Kasumi.”

Ukyo watched Nodoka hurry back into the house, then turned to find Genma gazing at her thoughtfully. He said nothing for a long moment, then sighed and straightened.

“Kuonji-san, I owe you a great debt for what I did to you all those years ago,” he said formally. “The cart is long gone, and just returning it wouldn’t come close to making up for the pain I’ve caused you. Nor would paying you its worth, even with interest. Marrying Ranma is now impossible, even if it wasn’t for the pre-existing agreement with the Tendos, but what I _can_ offer is to make you an heir to the Saotome School, and perhaps the second student of the Saotome-Tendo School.”

Ukyo gaped at Genma in stunned surprise for a moment, then collected her wits enough to ask, “After all this time, why now?”

Genma shrugged. “Let’s just say that Soun and Ranma’s examples have been something of a wakeup call. I’ve talked a good game, and Ranma’s taken what I said instead of what I did to heart, but it’s time I actually started living up to my own standards — Ranma isn’t going to be here to clean up my messes for me anymore.”

“I ... I ... Can I think about this? I haven’t spoken to my father about what’s happening, I won’t until after Ranma’s ... I may be declared ronin in a few days, because if Father demands I kill Ranma I’m going to tell him to go to hell.”

“If that is the case, come to us,” Nodoka said from behind them, and Genma and Ukyo turned to find the Saotome matriarch standing in the front door with Kasumi behind her. “I would be happy to have a new daughter,” she continued, then paled.

Ukyo flinched, but said in a shaky voice, “I’m hardly a fit replacement for Ranma, but I would be honored. Thank you.”

“The honor is ours,” Nodoka responded, bowing. “Now, Genma and I must be on our way. Kasumi says that of course you may wait for Ranma to wake up, but I’d ask that you take up as little of his time as possible — he and Akane have plans for the day.”

“Of course,” Ukyo agreed, and Nodoka rejoined Genma on the way to the front gate as Kasumi waved Ukyo into the house.

/\

Akane slowly came awake, feeling ... slightly not her normal self. She felt grainy, with an unfamiliar ache down between her legs. But at least she was warm — in fact, the source for much of the warmth was spooned against her back.

Then the memories of the previous evening returned, and her eyes shot open to take in the sunlight coming through her window, then glanced up at the alarm clock on her bedstead (knocking against Ranma’s forehead in the process). She shot up to a sitting position and turned to shake Ranma’s shoulder only to find him already sitting up and rubbing his forehead.

“Ranma, come on, the morning’s almost over!” Akane shouted as she sprang out of bed and hastily dressed. Ranma following, she hurried downstairs.

“Kasumi!” she yelled as she reached the bottom of the stairs, “Why didn’t you wake us up? We should have been up hours ago!”

Kasumi came out of the family room, duster in hand, and Akane’s thought stuttered to a stop as her eldest sister gave her a gentle smile she hadn’t seen in weeks. “You and Ranma had quite a night last night, Akane, and I thought you’d prefer to be rested today.”

Akane blushed, but her hand reached out for Ranma’s. “But ... but there’s so little time left, we missed out on _hours_....” she said in a tiny voice.

“Big sis is right,” Nabiki said from behind the couple, and they turned to find her leaning against the stairway railing, bleary-eyed but smirking. “Better fewer hours you actually enjoy than more you spend forcing your eyes to stay open, trying desperately to have fun when all you really want to do is sleep.”

She broke off to cover a huge yawn with the back of a hand, then continued, “Kasumi’s going to make you a picnic lunch, and the afternoon movie listing, locations of the best local restaurants, and enough money to more than cover everything are on the family room table. I suspect you can provide your own entertainment again tonight.

“Now, I’ll see you in the morning, _I’m_ headed to bed.” And with a jaunty wave, she disappeared back up the stairs, only to stick her head back into view a moment later. “But first, spend some time in the furo, you stink!”

The two teenagers, now both blushing furiously, started to follow Nabiki’s advice, but as they approached Kasumi on the way to the furo, she hesitantly said, “Uh, Akane, Ranma, Ukyo’s here to see you. Do you want to meet her now, or have her wait until after you get out of the furo?”

The couple glanced at each other, then past Kasumi at Ukyo, kneeling at the low table in the family room. Ukyo looked awful, bleary-eyed, eyes red and puffy, nodding off slightly where she sat, apparently unaware of the three by the doorway. “What happened to her?” Akane asked.

“Uh ... she knows what’s happenin’,” Ranma said nervously, scratching the back of his head. “I told her before goin’ ta see Kuno.”

“You told her first?” Akane growled.

“Well, yeah, I figured I’d have ta tell her sometime, better an’ easier ta tell her first, get it out of the way.”

Akane gazed at her former rival for a few moments, remembering all the anger, even hatred, then sighed and turned to Ranma. “Ranma, do you think she could join us? She looks like she needs a good soak as much as we do.”

Ranma tugged at his pigtail. “I-I-If you’re sure, yeah, I guess ...”

/\

A somewhat more awake, somewhat nervous Ukyo leaned back against the furo’s edge as the warm water loosened tense muscles. Akane and Ranma were soaking across from her, Akane’s head resting on Ranma’s shoulder. “I still can’t believe you asked me to join you,” Ukyo murmured, glancing at Akane.

Akane smiled wistfully back at the chef, blushing yet again. “There’s not much point to fighting each other anymore, is there? And you looked like you need to relax, Ranma and I have things to get to ... and we weren’t planning on doing anything but get clean, anyway. So, why don’t you tell us what you wanted to talk to us about, so we can bundle you off to bed? You look like you need it.”

“Uh ... right.” Ukyo stared at the two, wondering for a moment what else they might have planned to do besides get clean, then shrugged off the thought. “Akane ... I know we’ve had our differences ...” Akane snorted and Ukyo surprised herself with a chuckle. “Yeah, I know, goes without saying. But now ... anything I can help you with, anything at all, whatever it takes, you let me know.”

Akane’s eyes widened and she straightened up, staring. “Ukyo, do you really mean that?” she asked.

Ukyo nodded. “Yes, I do,” she replied. “It’s obvious you’re the person Ran-chan cares about the most, and he isn’t going to be here to help — so let me fill in for him at least a little. It’s the only thing I can really do for him, now.”

Impulsively, Akane slipped across the furo and hugged a surprised Ukyo. “Of course, I’ll be happy to let you help,” she whispered, tearing up, and Ukyo found out that she wasn’t all out of tears after all.

When the two girls finally got themselves back under control, Ukyo looked over at a clearly uncomfortable Ranma. “Relax, Sugar, we’re done with the weepy stuff,” she said with a slight grin, and Ranma returned the smile with an embarrassed shrug.

Straightening with a sigh and a grateful smile for Akane, Ukyo looked back over at Ranma, face serious. “There is one other thing I need to ask. What’s happened — what Kuno’s done — it’s been a real wake up call. I can’t do anything yet, not until I get more secure moneywise, but once I’m set ... I want to join the Underground Railroad, do what I can. Thing is, I don’t know where to even start looking for them. But Ran-chan, from things you’ve said it’s obvious you agree with them, and I thought you might know someone I could talk to.”

Ranma simply sat and looked at his former ‘cute fiancée’ for a time, face expressionless, then finally nodded slowly. “Yeah, I do know someone,” he said. “But I can’t just hand that name out on my own say so. I’ll pass the word, but it’ll be up ta them — if they decide they can trust ya, they’ll contact you themselves. It’ll be a little while, though, whatever they decide.”

“That’s all I can ask for,” Ukyo assured him, then sighed regretfully, gave Akane another brief hug, and rose to step out of the furo and grab a towel. “And now, I’ll get out of your way. You two have fun today, as much as you can,” she said with a weak smile, dried herself off, and headed for the changing room and the change of clothing Kasumi had provided.

/oOo\

**By Tman**   
  


“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes, Agent Honda, please sit down. An interesting report you’ve brought to my attention.”

“Yes, sir, and the situation is still developing. We’ve seen an explosion of activity within the last twenty-four hours, and it seems to be spreading. It all started with what appears to be a questionable use of the debtors’ laws to leverage an enslavement, but the situation has ballooned from there, especially when one factors in the main flagged file.”

“Ah, yes, the both troublesome and promising young Ranma Saotome. His file makes for most entertaining reading.”

“Yes sir, given the interest expressed in him on the part of many agencies I thought you might wish to be informed of the imminent sale and the interest generated by it, in case you wanted to get involved.”

“Hmmm ... nothing we can do about it. Besides, if we weren’t careful, some twit might pick up on those rumors that the Saotome lad was involved in slave smuggling. So, you said you had more files for me?”

“Yes, sir, the rumor mills have gone into unprecedented overdrive on this one ... we’re seeing interested parties popping out of the woodwork on an almost minute-by-minute basis. We’ve never seen such interest generated by a mere slave auction before. You’ve seen the files on the most prominent parties, all known and affluent enemies of the Kunos, either the senior or the junior, but several more have appeared that are worthy of notice. I wanted your input on some of these.”

“I see ... Ikari, that’s interesting — I wouldn’t have expected to see that name here.”

“Ikari? Aren’t they ... ?”

“The NERV Ikaris. Gendo’s a right vindictive bastard, but he loves his wife. She’s a genetic engineering genius, but not much has come of their work since the incident with their children.... Heh, I would have put Gendo on the top of the list of suspects in Kuno Senior’s death after that, but he’s laid low for the past ten years ... wonder why he’s showing activity now?”

“Ah, here’s another. Captain Goto Kiichi ... a police officer? I wonder how he figures on outbidding rich blood like Kuno, if that’s the reason for his interest. Unless he’s robbed a bank we don’t about?”

“Goto? No. I know the man, honorable as hell, but he thinks in ways more crooked than a screw. I’d _love_ to set him and Gendo against each other in the same room, just to see what would happen! I also doubt he’d want a full-service slave, so he must have his reasons for interest in this.... Ah! The Silver Chrysanthemum Bank and Trust holdup six months ago, must be! The good police captain must be feeling grateful for the undocumented ‘assist’ that finished up that incident quite neatly.”

“If Saotome was involved in that, why didn’t he bank on that in the current situation?”

“Because there might be truth to the rumors of his involvement in slave smuggling? Because he knows Kuno better than we do on the street level? Because he’s stupid? Can’t protect him from that, and it’s not our responsibility. Still, I too am intrigued by a police officer’s interest in this and what he might hope to accomplish. Pass the hat among his officers? And how would he figure on selling them on that idea, even if they _are_ Special Section? Okay ... next. ‘The Children of Bastet’?”

“Middle Eastern cat-worshippers, sir. Run out of Egypt by the Christians and later Dar al’Islam. Ran to India, and got run out of there as well. Finally settled in the Empire, where they hooked up with some of the older animistic splinter-faiths. There’s a surprisingly large enclave of them in the Home Islands. We watch them as with any other minority sect, but they’ve been loyal to their daimyo, pay their taxes on time, and behave themselves.”

“And they are of special interest in this situation because ... ?”

“They own over fifty percent of the ‘Hello Kitty’ franchise.”

“... Honda?”

“Yes sir?”

“Did you just try to interject a note of _levity_ into what could be a serious domestic peace situation? Because that sounds absurd.”

“No sir. Their profits alone are part of their daimyo’s enthusiastic tolerance, and they have enough money easily on hand to make a go at the auction, unless Kuno drives the prices insanely and prohibitively high even for him. And they _have_ expressed an interest in learning more and possibly attending.”

“Hmmm ... that alone makes this situation worth watching. What does a cult of cat-worshippers want with an ailurophobe?”

“Sir? Shall I continue?”

“Not presently. Honda, continue to monitor the situation and let me know of any ... extraordinary ... developments. Otherwise, keep an eye on the situation, and when the auction comes, I want us to have a _discreet_ presence there in the bidding. Let’s see what shakes out. Dismissed.”

“Hai!”

/\

_RINNNGGGGGGGG_

“Yes, Excellency? Director Shimon here, I thought you should know ... that special project we discussed in Hiroshima? We may have an opening window of opportunity, if we move fast.” ... “Yes, I understand. I’ll begin assembling the resources at once.”


	7. Counting the Hours: Spreading Ripples

Nabiki sighed with relief as she walked into the house after changing out of her shoes; it was good to finally be home. Glancing at her wristwatch on the arm not carrying her briefcase, the middle Tendo smiled sadly. _By now, if all’s gone well Ranma and Akane should be done with the movie and in the middle of dinner. Sure beats spending the day meeting with the Kuno family lawyers and accountants, going over the debts to make sure they all get transferred to ‘Ranko’ before the auction._

She shook her head, and slapped herself lightly as she headed up the stairs to her room. _A little green-eyed, there? Don’t kid yourself, girl — sure, it’d be nice to have someone care for you as much as Ranma does for little sis, but in some ways today has to have been harder on those two than it has on you, however good the quality time together. Now, get your head back in the game, it’s time to see if your little messages have borne fruit._

Walking in and tossing the briefcase on her bed, Nabiki sat down at her desk and booted up her computer. _Now, let’s check the auction site, see who’s registered for bidding...._

Next door in Akane’s room, Kasumi paused from gathering up the soiled bedsheets and smiled slightly at the sound of movement coming down the hall and into her other sister’s room. The eldest sister didn’t begrudge Ranma and Akane their time together, and understood why Nabiki had needed to break the mourning period to meet with the banks, but Uncle Genma and Auntie Nodoka hadn’t known Nabiki’s plans when they’d decided to give the sisters privacy for the day, and with the house empty it had been lonely. Once she finished getting the room ready for the lovers’ second night together, she’d have to drop in on Nabiki and see how the day went —

“HOLY FREAKING HELLS!”

Kasumi whirled and stared at the wall separating Akane’s room from Nabiki’s, then dropped the soiled sheets and broke into a run for the door. She had _never_ heard Nabiki shout like that, not even when the repayment notice was served! What could — ?

She burst into the middle bedroom to find Nabiki staring in stunned disbelief at her computer monitor. Relaxing slightly, Kasumi walked over to her sister as Nabiki turned a pale, wide-eyed face toward her. “Nabiki, what’s wrong?” she asked tensely, and Nabiki shook herself and turned back to the computer.

“Last night the thought occurred to me that Ranma’s time as a slave would be over faster if Kuno had some real competition at the auction, so I sent out some messages to a few people that don’t like Kuno much or are interested in `Ranko’,” she said as Kasumi walked up behind her and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Well, someone must have decided to spread the word even further, because look at the clans and organizations that will be sending factors to the auction!”

Kasumi leaned down and read over her sister’s shoulder. “Mendo, Natsume, Sanzenin, Meioh, Ikari ... the Children of Bastet? Nabiki, I recognize the names, but I don’t understand what it means.”

“Well, I don’t understand that last one either, and that worries me ... it could simply mean that the Cat Lovers see Ranma as an avatar for their goddess when he goes cat, and turning into a girl might have something to do with it, but it could also mean they know something about the Cat Fist training we don’t; I’ll have to look into that later.

“But these other names ... Kasumi, from the gossip, some of these people hate Kuno as much as we do and might simply be seizing a chance to hurt him, but this _has_ to be more than simple payback, not over something as trivial as a sex slave. I think word of what Ranma can do has spread, and these people are bidding on a combat monster.”

Kasumi paled. “Nabiki, what does it mean — what can we do?”

Nabiki leaned back with a sigh and looked up at her sister. “I don’t know what it means, and at this point there’s nothing we can do — compared to these people, I’m a big fish in a _very_ small pond. But I can tell you one thing, `Ranko’ is going to come out of this a very wealthy woman.”

“I don’t understand, doesn’t the money from the auction go to the Kuno family?” Kasumi asked.

Nabiki shrugged. “Normally, you’d be right, but I suspect that the bidding is going to go well over the amount of the debt, and at that point the rules change.” At Kasumi’s confused looked, she continued, “Auctions for debt slaves aren’t the same as for permanent slaves, sis. Instead of being a lump sum, the bids are for a monthly payment paid to the debtor, with an optional time limit at the end of which the slave would be returned to the debtor for another auction if the combined payments are for less than the total debt — you have to take into account the present value of the debt, but that’s the basics. In rare cases, though, the combination of the time limit and offered payment exceeds the total amount of the debt, in which case the excess is held in escrow with interest, to be paid out to the slave at the end of the contracted period. The rules governing bidding can get a little complicated ...”

Her voice trailed off as she stared thoughtfully at the screen, then she sighed. “Still, even now I can’t see anyone but Kuno winning the auction. That Family is richer than Kami-sama, and with Kuno’s obsession his factor will spend whatever it takes to win. But with _these_ players, that amount could be high enough to do real damage to the Kuno holdings, and eventually almost all of it’ll be ‘Ranko’s’.”

Kasumi moved away from her sister to sit abruptly on the bed. “Oh, my!”

/oOo\

Captain Morimasa Kasai, head of the Nerima Lording police force, was just sitting down do dinner when the phone rang. His wife eyed it askance, but with a sigh walked over to pick up the receiver — the timing almost certainly meant the call was work-related, but at least her husband’s promotion to what was essentially a desk job meant she didn’t have to worry that he’d soon be kicking down some door with who knew what on the other side. “Kasai residence,” she said, then, looking resigned, nodded to her husband. “It’s Itou-san.”

With a sigh of his own, Morimasa rose to walk over to join his wife. He hit the visual/speaker button, and the face of his second in command appeared on the phone’s screen. “Okay, Goro, what’s so important that it couldn’t wait —” Morimasa started to snarl, then paused as his subordinate’s worried expression registered.

“Uh, Captain, sorry to disturb your dinner, but we’ve received a request from the slave auction master for increased security at the auction three days from now,” Goro hastily said, “and after looking over the guest list I’d have to say he has a point. Here it is.”

Goro’ image was replaced on the phone’s screen with a slowly scrolling list, and Morimasa whistled. “Holy ... I’d say Mifune has a right to be worried, some of those people purely hate each other, and while it’ll be their factors doing the bidding that won’t necessarily mean much to their samurai. What brought this on?”

The list was replaced by his subordinate’s face. “I wondered that, myself, so I took a look at the list of slaves being offered, and one name leaped out — Tendo Ranko.”

“Oh, shit!” Morimasa whispered.

“And it gets worse,” Goro continued. “She’s being sold as a temporary full use slave for a rather substantial amount of debt, enough to sink the Tendo dojo and see all three sisters sold off if their `cousin’ wasn’t taking the fall, and the Kuno family holds all the debt — it looks like Kuno-dono finally found a way to get at least one of the girls he’s been chasing.”

Morimasa sighed. “Yeah, poor kid. And if I was Kuno-dono I’d be watching my back, Adjustment be damned. Of course, if I was Kuno-dono this wouldn’t be happening....

“All right, pull as many people as we safely can off the streets, let those that would be off that day know they’re going to be putting in some overtime, and cancel the vacations of anyone that can get back here in time for the auction — have the department pick up any travel costs involved. It won’t be enough if a firefight breaks out, but maybe what show of force we can make will make that less likely.”

“Right away, and ... done,” Goro said as he hit a button out of view of the camera. “Still, there’s at least one good thing about this mess....”

Morimasa rolled his eyes. “And just what silver lining can you see circling _this_ hurricane, Goro?” he asked dryly.

“At least the Tendos aren’t Christians, so we won’t have to worry about a near-riot _outside_ the auction house over one of their own being forced into ‘a life of depravity’,” Goro instantly responded.

Morimasa chuckled even as he shuddered at the thought. “Only you, Goro ...” he said, then sighed. “Yes, but that little bonus will leave more than sufficient evil for the day. Let me know immediately if anything else comes up for this, whatever the hour.”

“You got it, boss,” Goro said with a mock-salute, the screen went blank, and Mormasa turned back to his pale, wide-eyed wife. “Well, Mai, it looks like I won’t have to go rushing back to work ... shall we eat?”

/oOo\

As evening fell, Ranma and Akane walked into the Tendo home, arms clasped. For once, it had been a very good day — no attacking rivals, no plotting fiancées getting in the way, and if the reason for the peace hung like a thundercloud over their day they’d managed to ignore it. Ranma had only been splashed twice and both times the thermos of hot water Kasumi had thoughtfully packed took care of that.

The movie had been fun (a martial arts/samurai extravaganza, of course), and the dinner had been fabulous — dishes they’d never tried before from Italy, the cooking almost as good as Kasumi’s best. But best of all had been the picnic in the park that started the day. They’d both enjoyed the meal, of course, since Kasumi prepared it, but things had gotten a little ... nervous ... afterward while they were waiting for the time to go to the movie. The two of them had been stuck in a circle of mutual insults so long that neither really knew what to say when they _weren’t_ insulting each other. But Akane had finally broken the ice, asking for stories from the training trip, and the two had fallen to talking of past joys, together and apart, and even a little of what they might do years down the road when Ranma’s time as a slave ended — maybe, if they were lucky, to see his child for the first time. The only downside had been that Ryoga hadn’t shown up to give Ranma that last spar he’d wanted.

Now, at the foot of the stairs, the two listened to the quiet that permeated the house for a few moments, then Akane smiled up at her lover. “Ranma, why don’t you head upstairs to my room and get ready? I’m going to find Kasumi and ask if I can borrow that book again.”

Ranma nodded and with a quick kiss vanished up the stairs, and Akane started touring the first floor ... nobody in the backyard, nobody in the kitchen, nobody in the family room ... the youngest Tendo eventually found her oldest sister doing the laundry, and blushed as she realized what bed the sheets had come off of. _Boy, did we ever do a number on them. I’ll have to make sure to take care of the sheets tomorrow, it’s not right to force big sis to clean up after ..._ that.

Kasumi looked up as Akane walked in, and Akane frowned slightly even as her sister smiled when she saw her. Something about her sister was ... off, not quite right, she couldn’t put her finger on it ... “Kasumi, is something wrong?” she asked.

Kasumi quickly shook her head. _I really hope you’re right about not telling them about the bidders, Nabiki._ “No, at least, nothing that hasn’t already happened. So, how was your day, did you have fun?”

Akane’s face broke out into a broad, happy, bittersweet smile. “It was wonderful, Kasumi, the food was great, the movie was great, we talked for _hours_! I wish ... I don’t know why we didn’t ...”

Smile fading, she took a deep breath and determinedly continued, “Ranma and I are ... going to be in my room the rest of the night, and I wondered ... could I borrow the book again?”

“The book?” Kasumi asked, momentarily confused then, realizing just what book Akane was referring to, smiled softly. “Of course you can, I’ll get it for you right now.” Dropping the sheets she had been about to load into the washer, she headed out the door and toward the stairs, a furiously blushing Akane following with only one happy thought in her mind: _It’s going to be a_ long _night._

/oOo\

It was after midnight when two exhausted Amazons walked through the back door to the Cat Café. It had been a _very_ long couple of days, traveling to various little hole-in-the-wall stores throughout Edo and several cities within a few hours’ travel by rail looking for the ingredients needed, and Ku Lon again silently cursed her fellow practitioners of the Art. Yes, she understood that the independent magickers in Japan liked to keep a low profile, but couldn’t a few of them list phone numbers for their stores? They didn’t need to advertise, for the Goddess’s sake — she’d had to check three stores in two cities for manlonroot!

“Xian Pu, we’re back!” she called out.

“Great-grandmother, in kitchen!” came the instant response. “Bath water mixture going well, and all ready for making potion!”

“Well, come along, Duck Boy,” the matriarch ordered as she headed for the kitchen.

Mu Tse followed, slumping tiredly. “You got it, I’ll be glad to drop off the packages and leave you to your cooking, I’m exhausted,” he complained.

Ku Lon cackled. “Oh, no, you aren’t getting out of this _that_ easy — you can help stir and chop, and keep pans simmering — just make sure to keep your glasses on.” Ignoring the now whimpering boy, Ku Lon pogoed into the kitchen to greet her weary heir. It was going to be a _long_ night.

/oOo\

Akane slowly came awake as the gentle knock on her door was repeated. Glancing at the alarm clock, she grimaced at the time, then lifted herself to an elbow as the knock was repeated again.

“Akane, Ranma, are you awake?” came Kasumi’s voice through the door.

“I am now,” Akane called back softly, smiling wistfully down at a softly snoring naked Ranma next to her in the bed.

“Elder Cologne just called, the Amazons will be her in an hour and a half, and I thought you and Ranma would like a chance to wash and eat before the arrive”

Akane winced slightly, but called back, “Thanks, Ranma and I will be right down.”

There was a pause, then Kasumi replied, so softly Akane could barely hear her, “Don’t rush too fast on my account, breakfast can wait until you’re ready.”

“Thanks, big sis, we’ll be down when we’re ... when we’re ready,” Akane said, then listened to Kasumi’s footsteps recede down the hall toward the stairs, her pensive gaze still fixed on her sleeping lover.

_So soon,_ she thought. _And he looks so peaceful, and now ..._ With a sigh she reached out, then paused as a whimsical smile crossed her face. _Maybe he has to wake up, but there’s waking up and waking up._

Throwing back the sheet over the two, Akane shifted so that her head was level with Ranma’s groin. She leaned over and gently ran her tongue along his limp cock then sucked it into her mouth, even as she reached down between her parted legs and slipped a finger along the folds of her cleft, hissing slightly at the touch. _A little sore down there — no big surprise, after last night._

She felt her mouthful slowly expand from her attention even as a low groan came from Ranma, then a gasp. “A-Akane, what ... ?”

Letting Ranma’s dick slip out of her mouth, the black-haired girl asked, “Isn’t it obvious?” and turned her attention back to the growing erection in front of her face. It no longer fit in her mouth, but she took in as much as she could without gagging and began bobbing her head up and down, tongue swirling around its length as she did so. By now, she could feel her cleft start to moisten as heat began to build in her own groin.

Ranma groaned at the feeling, but protested, “A-Akane ... oh, that feels good ... Akane, I don’t think I can ... can ... not again, after last night ...”

Akane rose upright on her knees, giving Ranma the full-frontal view of her body, a finger still buried in her sheath and slowly pumping. Smiling lasciviously, she asked, “Is there actually a challenge Ranma Saotome can’t rise to?” Then, reaching down with her free hand to grasp Ranma’s erection, she cooed, “It seems you already have.”

Giggling at the mix of despair and offended pride on Ranma’s face, Akane added, “Don’t worry, Baka — you did most of the work last night, so this one’s on me.” She quickly shifted forward to position herself directly over the head of her lover’s cock and slowly sank down, hissing slightly at the mix of pleasure and pain radiating from her slightly sore cleft. Reaching bottom, she paused for a long moment, sighed with pleasure when Ranma reached up to fondle her pert breasts, then slowly began to bounce on the rod filling up her core.

/oOo\

“The process is simple enough,” Ku Lon said to the Saotomes and Tendos where they knelt at the table in the Tendo family room.

Xian Pu leaned forward and placed a thermos, a small covered glass dish, and an intricately carved wooden box on the table, then stifled a large yawn as she sat back. “Sorry, long night.”

Ku Lon shot her heir a reproving frown, then continued, “We’ll need to move to the furo, add the special herbs to the furo’s water, activate the curse, have Ranma drink the potion, rub the ointment into his — her — skin, then have her soak in the furo for an hour. At that point, the curse will be locked.”

Akane glared at the ancient Amazon. “If it’s that easy, why does it have to be today? Ranma doesn’t ... doesn’t have to ... well, until tomorrow,” she finished in a subdued voice, unconsciously clutching the raven-haired boy’s hand.

Ku Lon looked at Akane for a long moment then shrugged, face expressionless. “True, we could do this tomorrow, but then the ... the aura ... of the magic would still be present. I don’t know exactly how Adjusting works” — all but Ranma and Ku Lon flinched at the word — “but the presence of that magic could be dangerous. It would certainly be detectible. Better to give it a day to dissipate.”

“Right,” said Ranma as he stood up with a slight stagger, face expressionless, and began walking toward the hallway.

“Remember, Ranma, there is no guarantee that we will be able to reverse this later. This is your last chance to change your mind,” Ku Lon said sternly.

Ranma turned back at the doorway and snorted. “Yeah, right. No, my last chance was right before I signed off on this in Kuno’s office. Let’s get this over with.”

Xian Pu gathered up the thermos, box, and glass dish and followed her former husband. Ku Lon rose, then paused, balanced on her staff, as Akane also rose to her feet.

“I’m going, too,” she asserted brusquely, but Ku Lon simply nodded agreement, then bowed to those left and followed Akane from the room.

“I’m glad you chose to join us, child, we are going to need your help,” the ancient Matriarch said as they walked (and pogoed) down the hall toward the dojo.

Akane glared suspiciously at her companion. “How?” she asked curtly.

“When we spread on the lotion we are going to have to touch some rather intimate places,” Ku Lon pointed out. “I suspect Ranma will be more comfortable if _you_ are the one to take care of that.”

“Oh ... right ... of course I’ll help,” a now furiously blushing Akane replied, as the two entered the changing room.

Ranma looked over from where he was slipping off his pants, eyes lighting up in a stiff face at the sight of Akane.

“Now hurry up, boy,” Ku Lon demanded before he could say anything. “We need to hurry if we’re going to be done in time. Akane, it’ll be easier if you strip as well.”

Ranma simply nodded, finished slipping off his pants, then waited as Akane hastily undressed and the three stepped into the inner bath.

Xian Pu looked up as they entered from where she knelt by the furo, stirring the steaming water with her arms, the now empty wooden box by her knees, then quickly focused on her great-grandmother, ignoring the naked Ranma by her side. “Furo ready, Great-grandmother,” she reported.

Ku Lon nodded, then turned to the boy beside her. “It’s time, Ranma,” she said in a voice leached of all emotion. Ranma nodded without speaking, strode over and filled the rinse bucket, and without hesitation dumped it over his head.

The now redheaded girl shook her wet hair out of her eyes and turned to face the others. “What now?” she asked.

“Now, the lotion,” Ku Lon replied, picking up the dish and removing the cover. “Akane, Xian Pu?”

The two girls stepped forward, scooped up dollops of the lotion with their fingers, and started rubbing it into Ranma’s legs. Ranma flinched at the touch and began to shiver.

“While they’re taking care of that, here,” Ku Lon said, drawing Ranma’s attention from the feeling of two pairs of hands running over her skin and rising higher and higher up her legs, by handing the girl the thermos Xian Pu had brought in. “Drink it all. You’ll want to make it fast, it tastes moderately horrible,” she warned.

Ranma made a face but complied, drinking down the mixture in large, hasty gulps. Finishing the last swallow, she dropped the thermos and gagged, fighting rising nausea. “Gah! ‘Moderately horrible’? That was ... was ... I can’t say how awful that was!”

“Yes, well, ‘moderately horrible’ sounded better than ‘the worst tasting swine piss you’ll ever drink in your life’,” Ku Lon admitted.

Ranma surprised herself with a laugh, only to freeze, blood draining from her face, as Xian Pu’s hand ran along her inner thigh.

Ku Lon sighed. “Xian Pu, you take Ranma’s back, Akane will handle Ranma’s front,” she ordered. “Ranma, you’ll need to widen your stance a bit.”

A tight-faced Ranma nodded and spread her legs wider, then gasped as Xian Pu moved behind her and ran a lotion-covered hand over her buttocks and along her butt-crack.

Kneeling down in front of Ranma, Akane hesitated as the redhead squeezed her eyes closed and began to shiver, then ran her own lotion-moist fingers along Ranma’s cleft then through her inner folds and over her clit, making Ranma jerk, barely staying upright.

“Easy, Ranma, just relax, we’re almost done, I’m here, I’m with you,” Akane murmured over and over as she finished with Ranma’s cleft and slowly moved up her stomach, gently massaged her bountiful breasts, moved on up over her upper chest, neck, slowly stroked her former fiancée’s chin, cheek, nose, eyelids, forehead. Xian Pu mirrored her journey up Ranma’s body at the back and finished with rubbing the last of the lotion thoroughly into her scalp. “All done!” Akanefinally announced, and embraced a suddenly sagging, gasping redhead. Ranma clutched at the taller girl as her shaking slowly eased and her breathing returned to normal.

“So, now the soak?” Ranma finally asked the shrunken Amazon. Then at Ku Lon’s nod, added, “Can Akane join me?”

“Of course,” Ku Lon agreed with a gentle smile. “Just make sure you stay in the water up to your neck until I tell you you can get out. Come along, Xian Pu, let’s give them some privacy.” The two Amazons left, Xian Pu, tear streaks on her cheeks, gazing at the pair for a long moment before silently sliding the door closed behind them, and the two girls left behind quickly slipped into the hot water. Akane hissed as her tender crotch came into contact with the hot water then pulled Ranma against her, Ranma resting her head on Akane’s shoulder.

After a time, Akane asked, “Ranma, why was having the lotion spread on you so hard? Didn’t you ever ... well, try out your female side?”

Ranma stiffened for a moment, then forced herself to relax. “Well ... yeah, a’ course I did, what guy wouldn’t?” Then, laughing lightly, “And not a word about perverts, all guys are like that.” Akane joined in the laughter, then waited patiently when Ranma fell silent for a time, until the redhead added, “My problem was that I couldn’t stop thinkin’ a’ Kuno, and that he’d be ... be touching ...” Ranma broke off, starting to shake again, and Akane pulled her into a hasty embrace.

“Oh Ranma, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean —” she started to say, only to break off when Ranma shook her head.

“Ya didn’t do anything but what ya had ta do, not yer fault.”

After a moment Akane nodded. “After we’re done here, I say we go out and get some ice cream,” she said in a forcibly cheerful tone.

Ranma’s shaking eased off and she laughed softly into Akane shoulder. “Sure, why not? Let’s see how much I can scam off the servers this time,” she murmured drowsily, as she slowly drifted off to sleep.


	8. Nerima's Newest Slave

Ranma stepped out of the armored van and strode through the doors of the slave center, ignoring the two guards towering over her, face set in stone. At a desk behind a bulletproof glass wall, a man typing away on a keyboard glanced up, then pressed a button to the side. “Yes?” he asked through an intercom.

“Tendo Ranko, for full use processing,” responded one of the two men.

The man behind the glass nodded and began to type. “Room 38, right hand door, you’re expected,” he said after a few moments, hitting another button without looking up. To the right, a door clicked and slowly opened.

Ranma strode through the door and down the hallway on the other side, then paused as the random room numbering registered. Without saying a word, one of her escorts took the lead, the other motioning Ranma ahead and falling in behind.

Ten minutes and a number of turns later, a now thoroughly lost Ranma stepped into Room 38 and looked around. At a desk, a young, pretty raven-haired woman in a lab coat looked up. “Ranko?” she asked coolly, then when Ranma nodded said, “Respond to all questions verbally.”

“Yes, I’m Tendo Ranko,” Ranma said, and the woman nodded and typed something on the keyboard built into the desktop in front of her, then stood and walked around the desk as the two guards stepped up beside her.

“No, you are Ranko — for the duration of your enslavement, the only other names you will have are whatever your masters or mistresses give you. Remove your clothing,” she instructed, pulling a latex glove out of a pocket and pulling it on.

Ranma removed her usual red shirt and black pants, and stood in plain bra and panties (purchased that morning when she realized the only feminine underwear she had was the lacy lingerie her mother had purchased for her when she’d been pretending to be Tendo Ranko).

The woman gave an exasperated sigh. “ _All_ your clothes,” she said.

Ranma slowly complied. “What are ya gonna do?” she asked in a determinedly even tone as she added the underwear to the pile and again stood up, forcing herself not to cover her breasts and crotch.

“Speak only when spoken to,” the woman said. “Widen your stance and stare at the wall.”

Ranma did so, then gasped as the woman crouched and reached up between her legs, slowly shoving several fingers up into her. After a moment, the woman stood up again. “Very good, now bend over and grab your ankles,” she instructed. Ranma did so, this time managing not to react to the feeling of a finger probing up into her ass. “Very good,” the woman repeated as she walked around to her desk, pulling off the glove and dropping it into a garbage receptacle as the guards took up positions on each side of the desk.

Ranma straightened and turned toward her clothes, only to find them gone. Turning back to the desk, she found a faint smirk on the other woman’s face. “You won’t be needing those,” the woman told her. “We’ll give you what clothes you need when you need them.

“Now, spread your stance, clasp your hands behind your back, and stare at the wall over my head.”

Ranma complied, and the two men whistled in appreciation, taking full advantage of the view as her breasts were pushed up and out and her spread legs gave a clear view of her cleft.

“That will be your stance at the auction, so remember it,” the woman said. “Now, I have a series of questions. It is very much in your best interest to answer them truthfully — it will make the process of Adjusting you more efficient, and therefore your experience as a slave more pleasant.

“First, are you a virgin?”

“No,” Ranma answered shortly.

“What is your sexual orientation?”

“Lesbian.”

“Have you ever slept with a man?”

“No.”

“Do you wish to be sterilized for the length of your enslavement?”

“Hells, yes!”

Eventually the questions ended, and the woman sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Very well, we are done here. Your minders will take you where you need to go.”

The guards left their positions by the desk, one heading for the door and the other waving Ranma ahead of him. “Go ahead, Meat,” he ordered brusquely, leering at the smaller redhead.

Ranma froze for a moment, stomping on a rush of anger, then jolted when the guard reached over and roughly squeezed a breast.

“I said, go ahead, Meat!” he said more loudly, then stiffened and took a step back at the sight of the need to kill burning in Ranma’s eyes as she turned to look up at him. She stared at him for a long moment, then silently turned and walked through the open door, ignoring the now sweating guard that followed her out and closed the door behind them, falling in behind Ranma and his partner as they walked down the hall.

/\

Back in the room they’d just left, Kotara Noriko collapsed back into her seat and stared at her suddenly shaking hands, breaking out in a cold sweat. _I don’t care how much this job pays, I am_ not _going through that again!_ she thought as she fought to bring her hands under control. It took her several minutes, but finally she was able to finish typing in her report, hit ‘send’, then bring up the network phone list. Seconds later, her screen subdivided to make room for the image of a young man of typical Japanese appearance. “Good afternoon, Noguchi-san,” she said, and Noguchi nodded acknowledgment.

“Noriko, a good afternoon to you. I take it that you’ve completed the prep work for Ranko?”

“Noriko grimaced. “Yes, the questionnaire is on its way to you right now. But I’m afraid that questionnaire is all that’s come out of it. If Ranma — if Ranko is feeling weak, helpless, and humiliated she’s hiding it remarkably well. If anything, the procedure may have made it harder for you — she intimidated one of the guards with just a look on her way out.”

Noguchi sighed, then shrugged. “I was afraid something like that might happen, but higher-ups decided against my suggestion that we skip the usual preliminaries. I’ll just have to make do. Thanks for the heads up.” Then a slight chime sounded over the link, and he glanced to the side. “And there’s your report, thank you. Hopefully, your next interview won’t be as exciting.”

“Ranko was the only full service slave for the day, thankfully,” Noriko said with heartfelt sincerity. “And the next will be here in a few minutes, I’d better get to reviewing his record again. Good luck with Ranko.”

“Thanks, I may need it,” Noguchi replied, then his field vanished from Noriko’s screen, and with a sigh she brought up the record of her next processee.

/\

As Noriko’s image vanished from his monitor, Noguchi Susumu brought up the questionnaire she’d just sent him and hummed softly to himself as he ran through it, finally nodding. “No surprises, except perhaps that she isn’t a virgin — unless she was lying about that, a lot of men do,” he mused. “It’s as you said, Egami-sama.”

Standing to the side out of view of the monitor’s camera, a completely nondescript man — so ordinary-looking that waitresses had difficulty remembering his face from one day to the next — nodded firmly. “Good. So, you remember your instructions?”

“I’m hardly likely to forget orders from one of the Emperor’s Hands,” Susumu said wryly as he stood up. “Perform the Adjustment as usual, but report to you before submitting my report to the Slave Master. I should be back within the hour.”

He added, I’m really not looking forward to this.”

“You’re hardly the only one less than happy with this fucked up mess,” Egami replied, “and at least you aren’t Ranma.”

“There is that,” Susumu agreed with a grimace, then bowed and left.

/\

Ranma strode down the hall, still naked as the day she was born, eyes fixed on the large guard walking in front of her, the guard she’d intimidated following behind her. She ignored the whistles of appreciation, twice-over looks of admiration, and lewd comments from the men (and some of the women) the trio passed. Her outward expression was unchanged from the cold mask she wore — but inside, her delight grew as she watched the guard in front of her grow more tense with every whistle and comment, sweat stains on his shirt appearing and growing. The guards, at least, knew who — and what — she was. Oh, they knew....

Finally, in an as amused, condescending tone as she could manage, she mock-whispered, “You can relax, I’m not going to lose it and blow this place apart.”

The guard in front relaxed even as a blush ran from his hairline down the back of his neck under his collar, and the expression on the face of the latest man to lewdly comment on the luck of whoever bought her went from a leer to curiosity.

Then, the three turned into a corridor with a single door at the end. The lead guard took off his badge and ran it through a scanner to the side, punched a code into a keypad, and leaned forward to allow a scanner to run across his eyes, then stepped back. A few seconds later the door slowly opened, the lead guard motioned Ranma through and she looked around at the room she found herself in.

The room was large, round, and well lit. In the middle was a stone slab, polished to the point that one could barely tell that it was black, surrounded by circles of sigils and writing in an alphabet Ranma had never seen before. At equal distances around the outermost circle were three men and a woman in their own circles, dressed in robes and wearing veils. Spaced at even intervals around the wall were another twenty or so individuals of both sexes.

Behind her, a female voice said, “Ranko.” Turning, she found that the door she’d come through had vanished, and several more of the robed, faceless people stood against the wall behind her. One of them had stepped forward, a large cup decorated with engraved sigils in her hands. She offered the cup to Ranma. “Drink this, then lie down on the slab,” the woman instructed. Ranma took the cup, drank the contents down in quick gulps, handed it back, then turned and strode to the slab and lay down.

For a few minutes, nothing happened. Then, the room suddenly seemed to shrink, then expand, shrink again, growing hazy even as her view of the ceiling was obscured by indistinct people-shaped forms. Ranma gasped in surprise at the feel of hands running along her body, over her breasts, tweaking her nipples, up between her legs, slipping inside her. Slow minutes passed in waves of pleasure at the continuing stimulation and the sound of rising chants as her view of the room went dark, and she sank into a dreamless sleep.

/\

Ranma found himself floating in a void, naked but his normal male raven-haired, pigtailed self. Looking around, it seemed as if he could see forever, off into infinity, and infinity was filled with stars of varying sizes from pinpricks to large balls of light, all of them connected by a lattice of streams of light. _It’s beautiful — like a three-dimensional spider web in the morning dew,_ he thought in stunned amazement. _But what is it? Where am I?_

Then the void seem to reverberate with the sound of a massive impact behind him, and Ranma found himself turning in place to match the need to see what was happening behind him. There, Ranma found a stone wall, like the walls of some of the ancient monasteries he and his father had visited during their travels, extending up, down, to both sides into infinity.

The wall seemed to shiver as another crashing impact reverberated through the void even as it seemed to bounce around inside his head, cracks radiating out in all directions from a central point, and somehow Ranma knew he didn’t want whatever was on the other side of the wall to get through. But how ... ? Ranma glared at the wall, determined to somehow keep it whole, and his eyes widened as in response the cracks shrank, vanishing from the ends inward.

_What ... how ..._ he thought in amazement, then stiffened in sudden realization, willing himself to turn to again look at the shining lattice. _The Adjustment, this must be it! The ... the web, it must be my mind! And the wall ..._ He again turned to face the wall. “ _It must be my mind’s defense against intrusion, and whoever’s trying to get through ..._

A third impact resounded, but this time it sounded weak, distant, and though the wall shivered no cracks formed. For a moment, exultation filled the martial artist as he realized that he could hold forever, that whoever was on the other side of the wall was powerless to break through. _And what then?_ he asked himself. _This is the Adjustment ... if they can’t set it up, if they fail, they won’t offer you for sale, the deal’s off, and everything falls back on the Tendos._

Ranma’s shoulders slumped, and he chuckled wryly. _Just how many times do I hafta make the same decision? But then, I already made it, in Kuno’s office, the rest is just follow-through. So, how do I let whoever that is in?_

He tried relaxing, to slip into an unresisting meditative trance, and the fourth impact was again at full strength, cracks spreading out from a central point, then farther at the fifth impact, the sixth, the seventh. But the eighth impact came, and though the wall shook the cracks no longer grew. Nor did they grow at the ninth, and Ranma found a growing desperation shaking his meditative calm. _No! Whoever it is_ has _to get through, he has to!_ But the tenth impact came and there was no change — it was as if his mind had hit a limit beyond which it could not let go, and Ranma’s calm shattered in desperation. _Akane ... Kasumi, Nabiki ..._ he thought, and memories rose: Akane holding her as she drifted off to sleep in her former fiancée’s bed on perhaps their last night together (just sleep, unfortunately — she hadn’t been able to get images of Kuno out of her mind, and Akane had never really swung that way anyway); waking up to find a bleary-eyed Akane still holding her, not having slept all night; the two talking the morning away and then rocking the larger girl in her lap as Akane cried herself to sleep; tucking her into bed and taking a last, soft kiss as Kasumi knocked on the door to announce that the guards sent to collect her had arrived; a final embrace from a sobbing Kasumi, Nabiki doing her best to keep her threadbare “Ice Queen” act in place, her parents stiff-faced and formal, her father giving her a warrior’s arm clasp in farewell even as tears rolled down her mother’s cheeks....

As the memories rolled over him, Ranma felt something deep inside, seemingly at his very core, finally relax, and the next impact came like a thunderclap. The wall shook, then seemed to explode toward him. In the center of the massive hole left behind, Ranma found himself staring at another naked man, somewhat older than the teenage boy, classically handsome with cobalt-blue hair, floating in the empty, lightless void revealed on the other side of the wall. Even as the stranger gasped as he stared in shock at the pigtailed boy, everything faded out and the world went black.

/oOo\

A shaking, sweat-soaked Susumu staggered into his office and collapsed into his chair at his desk. Egami looked up from where he sat reading a tablet and glanced at the clock in the wall. “It’s been over two hours,” he commented nonchalantly as Susumu opened a drawer in his desk, pulled out a bottle of expensive, and strong, Irish whiskey and several glasses with shaking hands, and filled one glass almost to the brim. Egami shook his head when Susumu raised the second glass questioningly, and Susumu emptied the glass he’d poured in several large gulps.

Putting down the empty glass, Susumu turned to face the Emperor’s Hand. “Believe me, Egami-sama, I know very well how many hours it’s been,” he replied. “That was the hardest Adjustment I’ve ever performed, and I pray that it always will be!”

“But it was successful?” Egami asked, then frowned when Susumu nodded. “I must admit I’m surprised,” he said thoughtfully. “I didn’t expect you to be able to break the will of a mind that strong.”

“Don’t be,” Susumu replied with a wry chuckle. “The only reason I was able to accomplish anything was because he — she — _chose_ to let me in. But Egami-sama, there are ... problems.”

Egami’s eyebrows rose, and he straightened in his seat, his apparent nondescriptness vanishing as Susumu found himself resisting an urge to shrink back in his seat, away from the Hand’s abrupt laser-like focus. “Report,” Egami said simply.

Susumu nodded jerkily. “First, you were right — Ranko has a plan to get around the Adjustment. Do you have anything in her file about the Cat Fist?”

Egami nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, we do, and I have to admit we’d never considered how something like that would affect Adjustment. Would it work?”

Susumu shrugged. “I can’t say for certain, but probably — not that it matters.” At Egami’s questioning look, he continued, “That was the most slapdash, baling wire-and-bubblegum Adjustment I’ve ever performed. Even after Ranma stopped _consciously_ resisting me, his subconscious fought me every step of the way. The drugs and the Circle helped, made it possible, but only just. The geas against attacking anyone except in defense of self and others, or the acknowledged legal master at all, is in place but likely to shatter at the first real test.

“As for the ‘wall’ locking away Ranma’s ... Ranko’s disgust at the thought of sex with men, that will probably hold better than the other — Ranko’s going to _want_ it to hold and that’ll help. But it usually fades over time anyway, without the slave even noticing it’s gone — sometimes we have to reinforce or replace it if full use slaves get new masters with different sexual tastes. In Ranko’s case, though, it’ll probably fade even faster than usual and I wouldn’t be surprised if she can sense it, _feel_ it’s there as well as know it, and so she’s going to know when it’s gone. I have no idea what impact that’s going to have on her.”

Egami gazed at Susumu for a long moment after the other man finished speaking. “There’s a lot of ‘probably’s in your report, Noguchi-san,” he finally said.

Susumu shrugged again. “I’ve never encountered anyone like Ranko before, sir, I don’t really know what’s going to happen. I’ve given you my best guesses, but that’s what they are — guesses.”

“I can respect that, thank you for your honesty,” Egami said. “And your file says you’re one of the best Adjusters in Edo, which means Japan, so I doubt anyone else is going to be able to give us a firmer opinion. So, just when is Ranko planning to strike?”

“That’s up to Kuno-dono, sir — the two made a bargain that so long as Kuno-dono leaves Tendo Akane alone he will have a faithful slave. If he resumes harassing her, the deal is off. Ranko fully intends to keep it.

“And one last thing, Ranma _saw_ me, I have no idea how, she doesn’t have a hint of psi ability. Not only that, but I was unable to wipe the memory of the Adjustment process. I locked access to the memory away, and placed a secondary compulsion to not talk about it that’ll kick in when the memory lock fails, but neither of them is going to last permanently — eventually, Ranko is going to remember exactly what happened. She may not _understand_ it, but just her description of the mix of humiliation — _attempted_ humiliation in her case, drugs, ritual, and my mental intrusion would be enough for someone who knows about the existence of both magic and psi powers to figure out how Adjustment works. In general, at least.”

“Interesting,” Egami said, eyebrows rising in surprise. “Very well, in your report to the Slave Master include everything you’ve told me about the strength of the Adjustment, but _don’t_ include anything about the Cat Fist or how Ranko intends to use it, or the failure to wipe her mind of the memory of the Adjustment process.”

The intense focus the Emperor’s Hand had pinned on Susumu vanished, and he once again became the ‘man who wasn’t there’. Rising to his feet, he pulled on a lab coat and bowed to the Adjuster. “Thank you for your cooperation, Noguchi-san, you have been a great service,” he said softly, and started for the door.

Just as he reached it, Susumu screwed up his courage and asked the question that had been eating at him since the other man had first shown up unannounced in his office. “Egami-sama, sir, I know it isn’t my place, but — what Kuno-dono is doing is distasteful, but legal, and the Tokko’s purpose is to search out _illegal_ abuse by the nobility and Shogun. Why are the Emperor’s watchdogs so interested in this case?”

Egami turned and looked back at the other man for a long moment, the eagle-eyed look back, saying nothing. Finally he shrugged. “Considering what you already know, I suppose there’s no harm in telling you,” he said. “The nobility has always been competitive, with each other as much as with our enemies, and the Emperor doesn’t have a problem with that — it keeps them sharp, strong, during this long peace we’re in. But for some time now, much of the nobility has been getting more and more contemptuous of those under them.”

At Susumu’s uncomprehending look, Egami chuckled. “No, we don’t really expect this to remind them that bonds of honor are a two-way street, but we have a different lesson in mind. The Americans have a saying they repeat every chance they get — ‘people shouldn’t be afraid of their government, the government should be afraid of the people’. It’s time our nobility were reminded that it applies to them, as well. If they are unwilling to respect the common people as people, at least they can respect them as a threat.”

And with that, the once again totally nondescript man walked out of Susumu’s office.


	9. Going ... going ... gone!

Ukyo looked up from where she was setting up her okonomiyaki cart in the park across the street from the slave processing and auction house as another cavalcade of limos (a smaller one this time, only three) came down the street and swung through the gate, past the contingent of police flanking it on each side, into the private debarking area. _Another vulture coming to feed on Ranma’s misery,_ she thought as she unconsciously growled. Transferring her gaze to the police (a _much_ heavier police presence than normal, some with different uniforms), she added, _And their lackeys, there to protect them while they compete for the feast._

Then her eyes rose to the display screen on the side of the building, one story tall, where images of the slaves up for auction and the bids offered for them would appear once the auction started, then looked around at the crowds already gathering. Except for the small group of protestors waving signs condemning sex slavery (mostly Christian, most likely) that always gathered whenever a full use slave was on the block, everyone else would be here for entertainment or to make money — the bookies, of course, taking last minute bets; but also her and her fellow vendors there to feed the crowd. _Are you any better?_ she thought, her eyes dropping back to her cart as she flushed with shame.

But the sell-flagellation didn’t last long — the truth was that even without the food cart to run she would have been here this day, to share it as much as she could with the man she loved. And since she was going to be here anyway, she wasn’t doing so well that she could ignore an opportunity to bring in the kind of income the auctions involving full use slaves brought in. Still, the bad taste in her mouth had nothing to do with the odors wafting from the less competent among her fellow food vendors setting up around her.

/oOo\

Setsuna smiled tightly as she swung her legs out of the limousine, accepting a helping hand from one of her longtime retainers masquerading as hired guns (a necessary if threadbare deception — by law only lords and daimyos could have family retainers, sworn to service by oath). Looking around the open park-like area outside the private entrance to the slave auction, the emerald-haired woman nodded to herself at the sight of the various armed bands of retainers carefully segregated from each other, a number of police officers in non-Neriman uniforms patrolling the empty spaces between them with apparent nonchalance.

A normally perky short-haired redheaded policewoman bounced over to the renowned fashion designer, though her usual gamine smile was absent. “Good day, Setsuna-san, I’m surprised to see you here,” she said.

Setsuna carefully hid a wince at the gleam of awakening hope she thought she saw in the policewoman’s eyes. “Good day, Noa-san. And yes, well, an opportunity to obtain the services of as renowned a martial artist as ‘Ranko’ doesn’t come every day,” Setsuna replied wryly. Then, looking over the armed camp the outdoor waiting area had turned into (or rather, camps), she thoughtfully added, “Though that opportunity might turn out to be somewhat illusory, considering some of the liveries I’m seeing out there. And considering current feuds, I’m a little surprised this isn’t ground zero for a shooting war right now. Now, what are you people doing here?”

“Oh, no need to worry about a shootout so long as Captain Goto’s on the job,” Noa said with a confident smile, turning to also look over the armed camps. “Sure, they could swamp us if they wanted, but none of them want the good captain on their case afterward. Things will be fine.” Then, smile dying, she added, “And we’re here because we owe Ranma big time, so Captain Goto volunteered our services for added security. Captain Kasai was _very_ happy to accept the offer.”

“Interesting,” Setsuna said as she turned toward the auction room entrance, then paused. “Things look as fine in here as you say, but you might want to give some thought to the crowd out front. ‘Ranko’ is a popular person in Nerima. The usual limit of two bodyguards inside the auction, I assume?”

“Yeah, sure,” the suddenly thoughtful redhead agreed.

Setsuna turned to her unofficial retainers. “Genpaku, Motoyuki, you’re with me. The rest of you, behave yourselves while you wait. I’m sure refreshments will be provided.”

“Of course, Setsuna-sama,” the guards chorused, two slight, nondescript apparently unarmed men stepping over to join her.

“Yeah, refreshments will be right over,” Noa absentmindedly agreed. “Excuse me, I need to talk to Captain Goto.” The policewoman bounded away, and Setsuna and her chosen guards headed toward the entrance to the auction.

/oOo\

“Is it time yet?”

Nabiki carefully hid a grimace at the interruption, looking up from her computer monitor at Akane standing in her bedroom doorway. She’d never liked being bothered when she was in her room, and especially on the network, and usually her response to the question would have been devastating.

Not this time, it would be too much like kicking a puppy. Akane had not been happy when she woke up the previous day to find Ranma already gone, though she’d accepted Kasumi’s explanation ... eventually ... that Ranma had thought she didn’t need a memory of her love walking away between two thugs. Still, the rest of the day had been tense, this morning hadn’t been any better as they’d gotten closer and closer to the start of the auction, and the only reason Akane had gotten any real sleep at all the night before was because, after her nightmare woke her up (along with the rest of the house), Kasumi had insisted she spend the rest of the night with her.

For that matter, Nabiki wasn’t really in the mood for cutting remarks, either.

“No, not quite yet,” Nabiki replied quietly. “But almost — the pictures and statistics of the slaves for sale and the names of the registered bidders have just come up.” _Along with the odds on which bidder will purchase which slave, and for how much, along with the pictures,_ she carefully didn’t add.

Nabiki’s attempt at delicacy was wasted — Akane’s face tightened, but she simply nodded. “I’ll get Kasumi. Are you still sure Genma and Auntie Nodoka shouldn’t know about this?”

“Absolutely,” Nabiki replied firmly. “The big screen at the slave center is bad enough, they don’t need to know about the online betting, and what comes with it. And as technically illiterate and old fashioned those two are, they probably don’t.” _And I wish to all the hells that_ you _didn’t!_

Akane hesitated for a moment, clearly not yet convinced, but finally nodded and left. A few minutes later she was back, her oldest sister in tow. “Okay, we’re here, let’s see Ranma’s file.”

Nabiki hesitated. “Are you sure you want to watch this, little sis?” she finally asked. “Nothing will change whether or not you see it.”

“Are you going to watch?” Akane rebutted, and when Nabiki reluctantly nodded said, “Exactly — you _have_ to watch, and so do I.”

Nabiki looked over at Kasumi, then sighed when the oldest Tendo simply nodded in agreement. “Very well,” she reluctantly acquiesced, and with a keystroke brought up Ranma’s auction file as her sisters pulled up seats to each side of her and sat down.

The screen subdivided, the bar to the left containing a link to the subject’s statistics and skills, a list of potential buyers with the offered odds for the success of each winning the auction, and another link for more detailed questions such as the number of bids and the various ranges for the victorious bid. Nabiki’s eyebrows went up at the sight of the odds offered for the winner. “Wow, 1-20 for a Kuno victory, someone’s done their homework,” she remarked, then when no response came back, glanced over at Akane.

The youngest Tendo was white as a ghost, tensed as tight as a bow string, red light flickering in her curled hand as she fought the need to summon her hammer even without a target, her eyes locked on the screen. Nabiki followed her gaze to the photo beside the bar that had gotten her immediate attention and winced, even as Kasumi finally breathed out a shocked “Oh, my!”

The photo was of a completely naked ‘Ranko’ standing with her legs spread and her hands clasped behind her back, pushing her full breasts toward the camera. Her face was slightly flushed, her nipples reddened, tight, and pointed, now clean-shaven pubic mound and lower lips glistening and slightly parted, and she seemed to shine with a light layer of sweat — all signs of arousal that clashed with her closed, stony expression.

Akane choked back a sob as tears ran down her cheeks, and Nabiki put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a sideways hug. “This is why I wished you’d decided not to watch, little sis. Yes, it’s what it looks like — Ranma was physically aroused for the picture. Of course, the expression is normally a little different, Ranma isn’t exactly cooperating,” she added with a harsh chuckle.

Akane gave a bark of laughter through her tears. “Good for him, the idiot,” she managed to get out. “Did ... did some man ... ?”

“No, at least not actual intercourse. The slave master would want to avoid that to keep the slave’s price up — there are men out there that prefer to buy full use slaves that have never been with men, and the fact ‘Ranko’ is a self-declared lesbian ups the price even more, or at least would normally,” Nabiki instantly responded. “So with his lesbian status, the stimulation would have been done by a woman — especially in this case, where, if they have any brains at all, they’ll be less than certain of the efficacy of the Adjustment.”

Kasumi had risen at Akane’s reaction and moved around to put an arm around her youngest sister, putting Akane in a two-sided hug. Now, she glanced across Akane at her middle sister. “You seem to know quite a bit about how this works,” she commented.

Nabiki instantly went into full Ice Queen mode, face cold and expressionless. “Yes, I do,” she said in a tightly controlled voice. “Some of the kobankin I’ve used to keep this house afloat came from gambling on auctions, especially full use slaves — some noble’s sexual preferences and previous history is easier to research than whether some businessman needs a new accountant.”

Akane recoiled, mouth opening to shout at her sister, but Kasumi slapped a hand across her face before she could say anything. “So you understand something of what Ranma is going through, don’t you, little sis?” she asked gently. “Whatever it took to keep us afloat and put food on the table.”

Nabiki searched her older sister’s face for any hint of disapproval, and sagged in relief when she failed to find any. “Yes,” she whispered, “Anything Goes.”

Then her eyes were drawn to the screen as a button labeled ‘five minute warning’ began to flash red. “It looks like the auction is about to begin; give me a moment to get in my bet — 1-20 odds for Kuno winning won’t bring in much, but I can’t think of a more sure thing in all the years I’ve been gambling.”

/oOo\

Setsuna sat down at her assigned station and slipped into its slot the memory card containing her bank’s certification that she actually had, free and clear, the amount of kobankin she was willing to spend on the auction. That done, she glanced around the room at her fellow bidders and smiled grimly at the nervousness displayed by the various businessmen in the presence of so many of their betters — or at least, their superiors.

_Let’s see: factors for Mendo, Natsume, Sanzenin, Ikari, the Children of Bastet, no surprises there. Katsuhito’s here in person, of course, and it looks like he brought Tenchi and Ryoko as his ‘bodyguards’. And it looks like Kuno’s steward has chosen to handle this auction personally, poor man. I think he’s actually looking at a worse day than I am._

Her console quietly beeped as the light announcing the successful completion of the financial verification process lit up, and simultaneously a mild ‘bong’ of a bell sounded and the five minute warning sign above the display stage came to life. Setsuna settled back in her seat as several businessmen hurriedly finished conversations and rushed back to their seats. Then the room lights dimmed, those over the stage brightened, and the first slave strode out to stand before the crowd as Setsuna’s console screen lit up with the slave’s status (limited use, temporary), profession (housewife), minimum bid (low), and qualifications (few).

/oOo\

In the waiting room, a redheaded girl sat quietly, her hair out of its customary pigtail and styled. Completely relaxed, she looked around at the other slaves up for auction. Some were crying quietly, some simply resigned or stone-faced, a few even eager — those ones were usually young, probably college graduates being sold off by banks in order to recover school loans. All were dressed in the standard dress of their official professions; only Ranma was dressed only in the waiting robe of a full use slave up for sale. None were willing to make eye contact with her except one, one of the probable college students who looked up from her data pad and gave Ranma a nod and a sympathetic smile. Ranma smiled back in acknowledgment, then, as the young woman returned to her reading, closed her eyes and tried to meditate as at uneven intervals the intercom announced one name after another.

Eventually, Ranma heard her own assumed name announced. She opened her eyes and looked about, to find herself alone in the waiting room except for the same two guards that had escorted her to the Adjustment, stepping away from their places flanking the door through which she’d entered the room and coming toward her. Giving the two men a level stare (and suppressing a smile when they tensed up) she shrugged off her robe and strode naked toward the corridor leading to the display stage.

At the end of the corridor was a small room with a door, a young man standing by a table with makeup supplies. He motioned her over to a line in front of the table and looked her over carefully, eyebrows rising. “Remarkable, no tear tracks, no nervous sweat, no chewed lips, hair still in place, you’ve left me hardly any touching up at all,” he murmured. Picking up some lipstick, he quickly applied it to her lips, then to her nipples. “That should do it,” he said, and pushed a button on the table.

The minutes slowly passed, until a light over the door lit up. “That’s the thirty second warning,” the makeup artist said, “and ... you’re on. Good luck.” The door swung open, and Ranma strode out onto the stage and turned to face the dimly visible audience, taking the prescribed position to put her physical attributes on full display and focusing on the clock on the back wall as instructed, her face set in stone. Slowly the minutes passed, and Ranma found it harder and harder to keep herself relaxed and expressionless. _It shouldn’t be taking this long, what’s going on out there?_

/\

Setsuna smiled grimly, expertly hiding her tension as she looked across the room at a sweating Kasuse Morimasa. The total bid had grown beyond the Kuno steward’s worst nightmare as some of the most powerful houses in the Empire had offered up a good part of their wealth for ‘Ranko’, and his orders were explicit.

The Sanzenin factor had been the first to drop out, understandable given that the male half of the Golden Pair was only in it to stick it to Kuno and pick up a ‘girl’ he had lusted after for almost two years. Katsuhito had been second, in his case probably because of limited resources — considering the debt of honor owed to Ranma, the old priest would have offered every kaneitsuho he owned to buy the girl. Mendo, Natsume, Ikari: their factors had each bowed out in turn, and finally even the factor for the Children of Bastet had fallen out (probably another case of hitting the end of their resources, if religious fanaticism had won out over prudence), and now only Setsuna and the Kuno steward were left.

It had been a boring auction for Setsuna up to the appearance of ‘Ranko’ on the stage. She had no need to make an offer for any of the other slaves being sold, except one. Not that that had stopped her from helping out a little, tossing in the occasional bid to raise the final offer and get some of the temporary slaves through their slavery that much faster — it had helped soothe her conscience a little and provided cover for the ‘mistake’ she’d needed to make. That ‘mistake’ had been the bid where she’d been apparently caught by surprise, ending up with a slave she hadn’t wanted. That had been necessary to cover her tracks for this hunt, and she was sure she’d be able to find a place in her business empire for an eager young marketing specialist, even if she’d paid too much for her. The young woman would never know how much she’d earned with a friendly smile in the waiting room to a full use slave up for sale.

Now, if only the odds worked out as the Time Gates said they should....

/\

Morimasa stared at his bidding terminal as Meioh’s latest bid registered, doing his best to ignore his growing hope. At Kuno-dono’s insistence he’d come into this auction with an absolutely obscene amount of wealth registered with the slave master. He hadn’t dreamed it would all be needed, but in this his lord had been wiser than he (or perhaps it was one of those rare moments when his master’s delusion had a brief intersection with reality). Morimasa had watched in horror as the bids had kept coming in, and in, and in....

Now only he and that obscenely wealthy commoner were left, and he had finally reached the end of the total wealth assigned to the auction. Reaching out a hand he had to hold stiff to keep from shaking, he bid the last of his available funds and waited, fighting against hope, looking up at Meioh across the room. The emerald-haired woman grimaced as she looked at her own terminal, reached out and hit a button, then looked up to glare at him. Heart sinking, he knew just what he was going to see on looking down — the lit buttons signifying the fashion designer had dropped out of the bidding, and that the House of Kuno was now the proud owner of the most expensive slave in the history of the world. _At least I managed to keep the payments spread out over twenty years,_ Morimasa thought, desperately looking for a bright side to the slow motion financial catastrophe facing his House.

Suddenly, heads all over the room jerked up, looking toward a blank wall as a roar from outside loud enough to overcome even that room’s soundproofing was heard.

/oOo\

Outside the slave center, Ukyo winced as the update box announced the final bid by the House of Kuno on the outside screen beside the one story-tall ‘Ranko’ in all her naked glory, and the crowd roared its anger. Wide-eyed, she looked around at the huge mob that had been slowly gathering ever since the auction started — many members of which had been glaring at the vendors and bookies in the park, muttering about ‘jackals’ and ‘vultures’. Already, she’d seen several cameras, still and video, grabbed from their owners and smashed.

_I didn’t realize Ranma was so popular,_ the chef thought as she reached up and loosened the battle spatula on her back, slowly backing up and pulling her cart with her. A hail of thrown stones smashed into the display, shattering it beyond repair. Some of the mob began turning on the bookies and vendors, but the majority had started to flow across the street toward the slave center and the nervous policemen stretched across the entrance. Suddenly, the gate the limos had passed through earlier slid open and a line of men and women in unfamiliar uniforms, wearing riot gear and carrying rifles, marched out and across the front of the building.

The mob paused for a moment then started forward again, only to freeze in place as the line of armed people turned to face them, dropped their rifles, and fired a crisp volley into the road at their feet. At the pause, a tall, slim, raven-haired man stepped from the line and raised a bullhorn. “This is Captain Goto,” he announced, the front ranks of the mob flinching back from the volume. “Listen, people, I know you’re upset, and I know why — I owe him a debt, myself. But trashing this building won’t help him, and neither will the guilt he’ll suffer when a bunch of you end up dead when you try. Besides, the person _really_ responsible for this travesty isn’t even here. So please, trust him to know what he’s doing — he is a warrior, after all, he must have a plan — and don’t force us to kill you.”

With that, Captain Goto stepped back into the line, and the rifles again fired a volley into the street then rose to level on the crowd. For a long tense minute nobody moved. Then suddenly the crowd started shedding members along the sides and back, and within minutes the park was empty except for some badly beaten bookies and vendors and the original group of protestors clutching their signs. Ukyo gave a deep sigh of relief, dropping the unconscious body of one of the men that had tried to rough her up, and sheathed her battle spatula before finishing closing up her cart for travel and pushing it off toward her restaurant.

/oOo\

The Tendo sisters sat and stared for a time at the flashing box showing the final bid next to the photo of the naked ‘Ranko’. Finally Kasumi, standing behind Akane with her hands on her sister’s shoulders, whispered, “I didn’t know the Kunos had that much money.”

“Oh, they have a lot more than that, big sis,” Nabiki responded. “But even for them, that is going to hurt — a lot.” With a vicious grin she added, “And those bastards are going to have to decide which part of the Family holdings to sell off, month after month, year after year, to pay for this.”

Akane gave out a choking sound, and Nabiki glanced over to find her biting down on her clenched fist hard enough to draw blood, tears streaming down her face. Instantly, Kasumi was down on her knees while Nabiki reached out to turn off the monitor with a sigh. “It’s over, little sis,” she said gently. “Now all we can do is wait and see what happens.” _And try to recruit some more spies inside the Kuno household, to keep an eye on things._ “We were all sweating up a storm during the bidding, let’s go let the Saotomes know it’s over, get your hand cleaned up, then soak in the furo for awhile, order out to eat today.”

Akane stared at Nabiki blindly for a moment, then nodded jerkily when Kasumi leaned over and whispered her agreement in her ear. Slowly the two older Tendos helped their youngest sister to her feet and escorted her toward the stairs.


	10. Aftershocks

At the sound of tapping at the window, Ku Lon looked up from her seat at the central table in the dining room of the Cat Café to see a duck pecking at the glass. She rose to unlock and open the front door, letting in the duck and a purple-haired cat. A quick splash from the still-warm water in the teapot at her table, and her worn-looking heir and Xian Pu’s would-be paramour took seats at the table, Duck Boy shooting a concerned look at the girl he loved.

“So, it is over. Did it go as expected?” the Amazon matriarch asked.

The two teenagers nodded, though Xian Pu frowned slightly. “Yes, Great-grandmother, Sword Boy won as expected. But cost was high — _very_ high. Many people bid very much for right to own _Ai_ — Ranma.”

Ku Lon frowned slightly. “Do you remember the names of those that placed bids?”

Xian Pu shook her head. “Names not mean anything to Shampoo.”

“They probably meant something to Nabiki,” Ku Lon mused. “We will have to check with her later, see if this changes our plans.”

Then, straightening with a sigh, she added, “But that’s for later — after our part in this the Tendos would not appreciate a visit from us today, and we have a restaurant to run. You can give me a full report after the day is over. Unlock the door and take down the sign while I get everything ready in the kitchen.”

/oOo\

The Kuno Family’s large, muscular steward stepped past the lovely (and very competent) redheaded secretary into his lord’s office, closed the door behind him, and bowed deeply. Kuno nodded in response and waved toward a seat in front of his desk, his nervous eagerness carefully hidden behind a stiff, stoic façade. “Morimasa, you come in good time,” he said calmly. “I was just finishing the review of your plans for independent contractors to investigate the illegal slave trade in Nerima. It looks good, you have my full approval — use whatever lording resources you need in keeping with the required secrecy.

“Now, how went the auction?”

“It ... it went well, my lord,” Morimasa replied carefully. “I was successful in purchasing Ranko, as you commanded, but ... the cost was high — _very_ high. It took every kaneitsuho you ordered made available, and the Lording is going to be struggling to make the payments for many years.”

Kuno’s chair shot back to bounce off the wall as he sprang to his feet at the news with a shout. “Yes, at last! The sorcerer’s pernicious influence is _finally_ fading — Ranko is at last free to take her place by my side, and surely Akane will follow in time as Ranma’s absence frees her of his evil enchantments. What matter the price?”

For several minutes the office was silent as Kuno fought to regain his composure. When at last he was able to speak with only a slight tremor, he asked, “And my love of the fiery hair, where is she now?”

“Even now she is being taken to your home, my lord,” Morimasa said. Then, as Kuno strode for the door, the steward continued, “Per your instructions, beyond the usual bathing and clothiers, I have given orders that she is to have your personal maid assigned to her service. She will be ready by the time you arrive _this evening_.”

At that, Kuno paused just short of the door. “True, she will need some time to make herself presentable and recover from her travails at the hands of the auction master’s servants — she will not welcome my presence just yet, however much her love might now be finally blooming. But ...” Again, he struggled with himself, finally slumping with a sigh. “Very well, Morimasa, your less than subtle hint is well taken. Usagi-chan will probably be more of a balm for Ranko’s wounded soul anyway, immediately after such an experience. I shall remain here until my usual hour.

“So, have you completed my instructions with regard to my full use slaves?”

Morimasa nodded. “Yes, my lord. While on my way to report to you, I called the chief accountant and instructed him to initiate the forgiveness of the three temporary slaves’ debt and the sale of the permanent slave, with a sterling report for her next prospective owner. Mashita wasn’t exactly happy with the unexpected expenditure, but he will do as instructed.”

“Excellent,” Kuno said. “With the acquisition of the true coin, I have no need for substitutes. Let them get on with their own lives, those that can.”

With a roll of his eyes, he added, “Now, why don’t you set the investigation in motion while I apply myself to the _fascinating_ résumés of those that would take my father’s place as school principal?”

Morimasa surprised himself with a chuckle as he bowed at the dismissal. “Of course, my Lord, I would not keep you from such an _interesting_ diversion.”

/oOo\

At a window on an upper floor of the Imperial Palace, a tall man looked out over the gardens below. He was dressed in the imperial regalia, white-haired with age but unbowed by the years. Behind him, a nondescript man, bland to the point of practical invisibility, finished his report of the events at the Neriman slave center. For a time, the room was silent as the Emperor continued to stare unseeing downward. Finally, he turned with a slight sigh. “So, Kuno won after all,” he said. “I had hoped he would fail, even if his success plays into our hands, but ...” His voice trailed off, then he gave a faint shrug. “Things are as they are, not as we wish them to be. And overall, this has worked out even better for us than I’d expected. The near-riot will be useful. However, there is one ... oddity.”

Egami quirked an eyebrow. “You are referring to Meioh Setsuna’s actions, Your Majesty?” the Emperor’s Hand asked.

“Yes,” the Emperor replied. “We already knew she was wealthier than she seemed, she has to be considering how active she’s been in the Shadow World the past several years. But the amount of wealth that she was willing to devote to purchasing Ranko was actually greater than Kuno-dono’s top offer.”

“True,” Egami mused. “If it hadn’t been for the way she got bored waiting for Ranko to come up and played with the bidding, she would have won — it was that slave she purchased by accident that stopped her.

“Still, on the surface it simply looks like more of the same,” he continued. “We already know she’s heavily involved in _something_ mystical, considering the way she’s been recruiting high powered martial artists and mages. And considering that a majority of her recruits have never been seen again, whatever is going on is seriously violent. And none of it has been cheap — the support she’s provided to surviving dependents alone is enough to indicate that her hidden wealth is at least as great as her known resources. Her attempt to purchase Ranko could simply be another recruitment attempt — Ranma _did_ help blow the tops off of two mountains, after all.”

The Emperor said nothing for a time, deep in thought. Finally, he said, “Perhaps, but I don’t think so. Meioh has always been careful in the past to keep her public persona and her activities in the shadows well separated. This time ... she has revealed much for no gain. No one of knowledge and sense is going to believe that she was willing to spend _that_ much on a slave simply out of hatred of the Kunos — she’s far too astute and practical a businesswoman for that.”

Turning from the window, he looked at his Hand. “We will not have time to discuss the full ramifications at this time — the Shogun will be here soon to give the report on the fortifications the Sultan is constructing along his borders with the European Union.

“Keep a close but unnoticed eye on the situation in Nerima — it may well serve our needs without further intervention on our part. Also, take another close look at Meioh’s activities, both public and in the shadows. I don’t expect her to fail to notice the investigation, but try your best to be unobtrusive. Once you have gotten the surveillance started, set up an appointment to see me again so that we may discuss this more fully.”

Egami bowed deeply and quietly left the room as the Emperor turned his gaze back upon the garden, noticing a solitary, unobtrusive gardener pruning one of the trees. _An excellent metaphor for the Empire — outwardly serene with the army of gardeners needed to maintain it next to invisible, at least when they are performing their duties properly._

/oOo\

Ukyo shouted into the phone’s mouthpiece, “All right, you bastard, if that is your final word, you got it. Your pride and stupidity has cost you your daughter the past twelve years, now you’ll just have to do without a son!” She slammed the receiver down on its cradle. Whirling from the counter, she snatched her battle spatula from off her back and with a scream split the nearest table in half. Within minutes, there wasn’t a whole item of furniture left in her restaurant’s tiny dining room, the floor covered with splintered and chopped pieces of tables and chairs.

Leaving the battle spatula imbedded in the hacked counter separating the dining room from the kitchen with her bandoleer of throwing spatulas draped over the handle, Ukyo took one last look around the devastated restaurant, tacked up a folded note with Konatsu’s name written on the outside beside the order window, and walked out of the devastated restaurant without a backward glance.

/oOo\

Kasumi, worn-looking with eyes reddened from crying, sighed as the sound of another knock on the front door echoed through the house. The steady stream of offers of support and regrets from all the well-wishers, both students from Furinkan and adults from all over Nerima, were gratifying, but the effort to appear calm and collected was weighing her down. Walking from the kitchen, she opened the front door and froze, gasping at the sight of the former ‘cute fiancée’ covered in splinters and seat stuffing with tears running down her face. “Oh my! Ukyo, whatever happened to you?”

“I’m so sorry to be bothering you right now,” Ukyo managed to choke out, “but is Genma home?”

“Of course, please come in,” the eldest Tendo answered without hesitation, stepping out of the way.

A few minutes later, Ukyo knelt at the family room table across from the last known living master of Anything Goes and his wife, her eyes focused on the table top. “My apologies for disturbing you on such a day,” she said softly, “but when I returned home from the ... from the auction, I called my father.”

She fell silent for a moment, and Genma waited patiently as she struggled for control. Finally, Ukyo continued, “When I refused to try to kill you and Ranma, he declared me ronin and forbade me to use either of the family arts. Is ... is the offer of adoption and becoming your student still open?”

“Of course,” Genma responded instantly.

Nodoka nodded her agreement. Softly, she added, “We will place you on the family register as our daughter first thing tomorrow. Today, please join us and the Tendos as we offer prayers at our shrine for the wellbeing of my son.”

Looking up, the teary-eyed girl nodded and smiled tremulously. “Of course, I would be honored.”

/oOo\

**By Tman**   
  


Ryoga Hibiki wandered, paying little attention to his surroundings, and pondered.

He had a lot to ponder.

He’d finally made his way back to Nerima, found his way to the Tendo Dojo again, and there immediately found an atmosphere more befitting a wake.

He’d then immediately jumped to the conclusion that Ranma was somehow responsible and demanded to know where that miscreant was, and what he’d done to cause so much sadness, and volunteered set the villain right.

He was only partially, not even half, right.

Being machine-gun slapped by Akane, Nabiki, Kasumi, Ukyo, and Ranma’s mother had ended his tirade _fast_. And he was grateful afterwards that they’d shown mercy enough to sit the Lost Boy down and correct his misassumption, with a minimum of additional bloodshed. The fact that Genma had been flexing his muscles in ways that suggested some painful powerful martial arts techniques ready to be unleashed, the gleam on Nodoka’s drawn family honor blade and Ukyo’s naginata ( _what had happened to her battle spatula?_ ), and the edge in the voices of the Tendo daughters as they got him quickly up to speed had cut his objections — though fortunately not his throat—  short. Then they’d left him to cool off and digest what he’d learned.

It was enough to make him get up and wander around and out. It was that big.

A part of Ryoga Hibiki tried to rejoice. Wasn’t his longtime nemesis, that archfiend, that enemy of women, bane of Akane’s life, his tormentor and cause of all his woe, going to his just deserts? Losing his freedom for possibly all time? Losing the very Art he cheated with, that he flouted in Ryoga’s face every time they met, that he lived and breathed ... forced to give it up along with his free will? Losing his manhood? Forced to give herself up to the unwanted attentions of a man she hated? Being violated as a matter of course, and there was nothing she could do about it? Didn’t that match as perfect a description of hell, as close as mortals could make it?

Shouldn’t Ryoga be cheering this? Working to make sure the new status quo went unchallenged? Wasn’t this the chance he’d been waiting for? An open path to his happiness?

Only, Ranma was gone, and Akane was _still_ unhappy.

And from the way she and her sister spoke and acted, he just knew that, whatever else Ranma might have done in the past, he was not only forgiven, he was honored and they would not see anyone defame him.

_That defamer of the fair Akane, that enemy of women, that smug arrogant blowhard that made Akane cry? That cocksure bane of my existence? Couldn’t anybody see — ?_

Ryoga squashed that bubble of outrage when he realized he was beginning to sound a lot like Kuno, and as Ryoga thought more and more about the situation, the more he realized _that_ was not someone he wanted to be like.

Kuno ... the one who, in Ryoga’s absence, had forced the Tendo patriarch to choose between his family and buying time with his life. An honorable choice, but it had required that Akane deliver the final stroke to her father. Ryoga hadn’t come back in time before or after then. He hadn’t been there to offer solace, or come up with another plan to spare them any, or further, grief.

Ranma had, and Ranma had made the decision, made the penultimate sacrifice to match. Ranma had _been there_.

Ryoga hadn’t.

Oh, sure, he couldn’t, not like Ranma had. What could he offer the Kunos? A free pork sandwich? But still, he hadn’t had the opportunity to know if he could have made that choice to give up his own safety and security, his own very being, for the Tendo daughters.

Once again, Ranma had trumped Ryoga.

This wasn’t going to stand. This couldn’t stand. How could he prove himself the more powerful, the more honorable, the better man, if, simply by suffering abjectly, Ranma would always beat anything that Ryoga could conceivably do?

Ryoga began to appreciate what power a martyr had.

Ryoga could only prove himself against his rival in person, with both on an equal ground, and that was impossible as long as she was a slave. But that meant Ryoga had to find some way to end that particular problem. Then, and only then, could they settle matters as they _should_ be settled.

_Oh, face it; Ranma’s the closest thing I’ve got to a friend! True, he’s the sort of the friend I want punch out every time I see him, but without him life seems somewhat less ... interesting._

No, his previous outrage was a thing of the past. He’d been slowly coming to the realization that he wasn’t as intent on his rival’s death and destruction as he thought. This latest development, however, was a real game-changer, a fundamental shift in the balance of power between Nerima’s martial artists. As far as Ryoga was concerned, Kuno had well and truly cheated with his actions, had shed very real blood by his actions, however indirectly, and hurt people Ryoga and Ranma both held in their affections. Against _that_ crime, Ryoga’s own claims of compromised happiness paled in comparison.

No more spur-of-the-moment teaming up with Kuno to beat up on Ranma, no more school yard feuding, no more false alliances; that was another thing of the past. It was time to drop the old animosity, draw his line in the sand, take a stand, and start living up to his own claims of Justice and Honor.

Pausing on the steps of a large building, Ryoga punched his hands in the air and screamed to the heavens. “THIS ISN’T OVER, RANMA! I’LL FREE YOU FROM KUNO’S SLAVERY! I WILL FREE YOU FROM HIS VILE CLUTCHES! I WILL RESTORE YOUR FREEDOM! I, RYOGA HIBIKI, WILL BREAK THE CHAINS! THIS I SWEAR!”

Dropping his fists, he took a deep breath and gathered himself, and then became aware of being watched. He nervously looked around and met the rapt gazes of dozens, perhaps hundreds, of all races of people.

Self-consciously, Ryoga realized he was the center of attention of a substantial crowd of onlookers.

Enough people in the throng of people visiting the Washington D.C. Mall that day knew Japanese to understand what the young travel-worn man on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial (raised by the Freedmen’s Bureau to honor the President felled by a diehard racist assassin) had just declared to the world. Their cheering ignited applause from the rest of the onlookers, sensing that some momentous event had just happened, that continued to swell in volume and enthusiasm until the monuments and buildings themselves echoed the sentiment back.


	11. Say, what?

Ranma, dressed only in a short, plain white slip given to her at the slave center after the auction, grew more and more tense as she watched the streets pass by through the limousine’s tinted windows on her way to the Kuno estate. Something had happened at the auction, and she didn’t know what. Perhaps her time sense had slowed under the stress of standing exposed before strangers, but it had seemed to take much longer than it should have. And there’d been that roar from outside at the end....

But she’d been instructed that a slave spoke only when spoken to and so far she’d managed to follow that rule, however much it went against her nature, and no one had spoken of what had just happened at the auction. She’d simply been tossed her slip and hustled out of the center and into the limo. Still, that didn’t stop her from speculating, and wondering, and coming up with possibility after possibility, each more extreme than the last. At least it kept her from dwelling on the fact that she was headed for the last place on Earth she wanted to go.

All too soon, the cavalcade her limo was in the center of turned and passed through the Kuno estate’s gates and circled the mansion to pull to a stop in a large, circular driveway at the back, out of sight of the street even if the estate wall hadn’t been in the way.

Ignoring the hand offered to her by the servant who’d opened the door on her side of the limousine, Ranma stepped out, trying (and failing) to keep the slip from riding up practically to her waist in the process. She ignored the servant’s poorly hidden appreciation of the free show, practically vibrating like a bow string. She’d been to the Kuno estate several times over the past few years, but not this section and she looked around in confusion. _No Kuno,_ she thought in relief. _I’d a’ thought he’d be here ta claim his prize. So, what do I do now?_

The sound of someone clearing his throat brought her attention forward, and she jerked in shock at finding an older white-haired man dressed as a British butler standing in front of her. _How did he_ do _that?_ she thought as she suppressed her instant fight-or-flight reflex. _I didn’t think_ anybody _could sneak up on me like that!_ She shook her head with a wan chuckle. _I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that the servants are ninja._ “Yeah?” she asked.

The apparent butler frowned slightly. “I am Pyo Jun Si, the Kuno Master of Servants,” he said curtly. “You are Ranko?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” she replied, stiffening at the liberty.

His frown deepened. “You will address me as Pyo-sama,” he instructed, “and you will use the ‘sama’ honorific for all free individuals that have not given you explicit permission to do otherwise, unless a higher honorific is required. Also, in case you aren’t familiar with common usage, you will not take offence at anyone leaving off the honorific when speaking to or of you — that is typical for people speaking to or of slaves.

“Now, follow me,” he ordered, and turned on his heels to stalk toward the mansion. Taking a deep breath, Ranma forced herself into motion in his wake.

The Kuno Family mansion was a maze, each generation adding new extensions and layers, and Ranma quickly found herself lost and wondering when their little walk was going to end. Finally, the two arrived at what was obviously a sitting room, and through open doorways Ranma could see a small dining room, an equally small library, a large bedroom, and a hallway. She couldn’t see anyone else, but could hear a young girl’s voice singing from farther back inside the bedroom.

Pyo turned to face Ranma, acknowledging her existence for the first time since leading her into the mansion. “These are Kuno-dono’s personal quarters,” he said tonelessly, “and now yours as well.”

Ranma looked around, and relaxed slightly even as a puzzled expression crossed her face when a poetry-spouting bokken-wielding lunatic failed to appear.

“Where’s Kuno?” she asked.

Pyo winced slightly. “How you refer to the master in private is Kuno-dono’s own affair,” he said stiffly. “But in public you will always refer to him as Kuno-dono.”

Walking over to a desk against the wall, he picked up a gold chain with the Kuno Family crest as a pendant. “This is your slave collar,” he said, turning again to the redhead. “You will notice that it has a clasp. This is not normal practice. However, the law requires that you wear this in such a way that the crest is clearly visible at all times, so remove it only when alone in these rooms, except for Kuno-dono and your personal maid, and keep it on or by your person at all times you are not wearing it so that you can put it on quickly if anyone else enters the suite.”

He tossed the chain over to her, and Ranma slowly placed it around her neck and with some struggle closed the clasp. It was a tight fit, and she wondered for a moment how they’d known her size until she remembered her measurements being taken after she awoke from the Adjustment she couldn’t remember.

As she attached the slave collar, Pyo turned towards the door to the bedroom. “Usagi!” he called out.

Instantly, the singing broke off and a girl with shoulder-length blond hair and wearing a Western maid’s uniform, including apron, popped out of the bedroom. “Yes, Pyo-sama?” she asked, looking curiously at Ranma.

The Master of Servants sighed, even as his stern expression seemed to soften slightly. “Usagi,” he said wearily, “You aren’t wearing your collar.”

“Oh!” The girl, younger even than Ranma, reached into a pocket on her apron, pulled out her own slave chain and quickly fixed it around her neck, blushing deeply all the while.

“Usagi, you cannot keep doing this!” Pyo admonished sternly. “If you do, sooner or later it will be before an outsider, and that will bring shame on your master.”

“I know, I’m sorry, it won’t happen again,” Usagi muttered, dropping her gaze in shame, and after a moment the older man relented.

“No harm done this time,” he said. “Usagi, this is Ranko. She is Kuno-dono’s newest, and now only, full use slave and your newest assignment — Kuno-dono has ordered that you are to be her personal maid rather than his.” The blood drained from Usagi’s face and she swayed as if she was about to faint, and Pyo hastily continued, “In practice, this will not entail any change in your duties or require you to move to other quarters — Ranko will be living here, and you will still be acting as Kuno-dono’s maid as well. The only change will be that you will place Ranko’s needs before all other duties.”

“Living here?” Usagi asked, staring at Ranma. “Oh! You must be Tatewaki-dono’s love that he finally freed from that evil sorcerer! The auction was today? You must be so happy to be away from that monster!” Ranma froze, struck speechless by the girl’s enthusiastic ignorance, and Pyo twitched again.

“Yes, she is the pigtailed girl that Kuno-dono speaks of,” the Master of Servants replied with a very faint grimace. “And yes, the auction was today. Now, before Kuno-dono returns home in a few hours, Ranko needs to bathe, the clothiers will need her to make the final adjustments on her new wardrobe, and perhaps a tour of the local area of the mansion is in order.”

“Right!” Usagi enthused. “Bath first!” Grabbing Ranko’s hand, she pulled her into the bedroom and toward a door in the side wall out of sight from the doorway to the sitting room.

Ranma allowed herself to be pulled into what was to a normal bathroom what the Kuno mansion was to the Tendo home — a huge round furo filled with steaming water set into the floor, a doorless shower stall with multiple jets large enough for a small crowd, a makeup table to one side, a long, padded table, another door to one side. Soft music was playing in the background.

Ranma simply stood and stared in awe for a long moment, then turned toward Usagi to find the younger girl quickly removing her uniform. “What are ya doin’?” the redhead demanded, trying not to admire the slim beauty of the (now obviously natural) blonde girl.

Usagi stopped for a moment, staring, then nodded in dawning comprehension. “Oh, right, you’ve been living with commoners the past few years, haven’t you? It’s simple enough — you’re bathing, so I’m going to be soaping you up and rinsing you off. It’s one of my duties as your personal maid. Now, come on! If we hurry, we’ll have a decent time to soak before the clothiers need you.”

Blushing, Ranma pulled the slip off over her head and stepped toward the low stool for the soap and rinse, then froze as a thought struck her. “You do this fer Kuno?” she asked harshly.

The perky blonde blinked, confused at the hostility in Ranma’s voice. “Of course, it’s one of my duties as Tatewaki-dono’s personal maid,” she replied.

“And what other duties has Kuno demanded? Has he ... forced himself on you?” Ranma demanded.

Usagi simply stared at her in continued confusion for a moment, then her eyes widened in realization and she blushed beet-red. “No, no! Nothing like that,” she hastily answered, then added under her breath, “Too bad.”

Now it was Ranma staring. “Too bad?” she repeated.

By now, Usagi’s blush was so deep it was practically purple. “You weren’t supposed to hear that!” she protested, and pulled Ranma the rest of the way toward the rinsing stool. After a moment, she added, “It’s just ... he’s just so handsome, and kind, and ... and Makoto’s talked about how good he is in bed — I know there’s no way he’ll marry me once my family’s debt is paid off, and I’m not a full use slave, but I could do a lot worse for my first time ... or second, or third, and the bed’s right there, and every so often none of his full use slaves are in it, and I sleep down the hall, and I know the other slaves and servants think he’s ‘bending that girl over the dining room table’ regularly — well, except for Makoto and Ami, but Ami’s in Financial, I hardly ever see her even if we’re both from Juuban.” For a moment, the girl’s perky cheerfulness fell away, and Ranma watched Usagi in the huge mirror on the wall as she stared into space with lonely, pain-filled eyes. But the moment passed, and she continued, as energetically as ever, “But no matter how much I hint that I wouldn’t mind at all, he’s just too honorable to ‘take advantage’ of a limited use slave — other nobles would but not him, no matter how much the slave wants it ... damn it!”

Ranma winced at the effort that the now ranting Usagi kneeling behind her was putting into scrubbing her back, and the blonde broke off and took a deep breath. “Sorry,” she muttered. “Ah, Ranko-san ... would you not tell anyone what I just said, please?”

“Yer secret’s safe with me,” a thoroughly bemused Ranma promised, and her new unofficial body slave immediately brightened.

“Great! I just knew we were going to be friends,” she enthused. Glancing at the clock in the wall, she said, “Let me get your front, then we should be able to get in a half-hour soak before the clothiers need you and then I’ll show you around.”

Ranma just shook her head even as she blushed and stiffened at the feeling of Usagi’s hands sliding around to her front, then relaxed at the way the other girl’s touch seemed both more gentle and ... impersonal than the hands she’d had to endure at the slave center. _Maybe this won’t be so bad after all,_ she thought with forced optimism.

/oOo\

**By Tman**   
  


Word hit school of the sale.

What a bummer of a week. First the continuing near-celebration (tempered with respect for the dead) that the Whacked Macadamia Nut of Furinkan had passed on to that big luau in the sky, then word that the Tendo sisters’ father had died, committing seppuku. Then word that Saotome Ranma, ah, ‘Tendo Ranko’, had sold herself as a full use slave to the man she habitually and regularly beat the snot out of, Kuno Tatewaki, the self-appointed Blue Thunder (and locally known Lesser Macademia Nut of the district), in order to bail out the Tendos who, it turned out, had been foundering in debt for years.

Hiroshi sighed. Yeah, it was a popular teenage male fantasy: buy a hot-looking full use slave who was conditioned to be loyal to you, to do whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted it. There’d even been a lot of locker room speculation (out of Ranma’s earshot, of course) of what Saotome’s female form would be like as a slave. A lot of the smaller-minded boys thought it would be a cool thing. He’d had similar fantasies, he admitted — who wouldn’t, seeing a body that hot-looking?

Some of them still did, once the news had broken, especially those who’d been followers of Kuno, had been part of the Date Akane Challenge Fight Brigade, and those jocks who had felt slighted by Ranma’s superhuman athletic prowess. They were loudly crowing their thoughts on the subject for days now. It was a reality; female Ranma was a full use slave. Done deal. There was even some trade in the nude auction pictures of ‘Ranko’ going on. A practically drooling Daisuke had enthusiastically ranted about them when Hiroshi ran into him on the way to school in the morning.

Hiroshi decided then and there that Daisuke was a jerk.

Looking around though, Hiroshi noticed, there was a lot less talk than one might have expected. A lot of the earlier locker room speculators were curiously quiet. There were a lot more thoughtful looks going over people’s faces.

Hiroshi knew why.

For all the difference in background and ability between the two of them, Ranma had been Hiroshi’s _friend_. He’d been the friend of a lot of other people too, even if he wasn’t particularly close to any of them. It wasn’t that he was standoffish or class-conscious, or mean-spirited; it was just that he was a roaring fire — warm to be around, but you couldn’t stand too close or you’d get burned by all the energy around him. Although he had an ego the size of the Moon, he wasn’t arrogant or malicious, nor even condescending; he was a guy just very sure of himself. He was fun to be around, and he could be counted on for excitement. He was also, Hiroshi suspected a lot of people were just now realizing, a whole hell of lot more honorable and true to his word than a lot of supposedly better-bred people of circumstance.

A lot of people were also realizing that Ranma had drawn a lot of attention and a lot of flak that might have otherwise gone in their direction. Oh, sure, Saotome was the _cause_ of a lot of the trouble, but he didn’t go looking for it; it came looking for him, and he inevitably got out in front of it to stop it, usually in spectacular fashion. School troubleshooter and one-man spectator sport, he’d served to curb the worst excesses of the established troublemakers, student and faculty alike, of the school. He’d done more good than harm.

And with the word of what happened to the Tendos spreading, the situation was taking on new meanings. Dumb old Kuno had sprung a mean-spirited trap that cost the Tendo girls their father. Now that he had the full power of his family name, who knew what else Kuno might pull, and against who?

No, Hiroshi could never think of his good friend as a sex slave, at least not as those loudmouthed locker room jerks did. Ranma was a prisoner, a hostage, a victim of obsession.

But what could he do about it? The rumormongers were right in their whispers; if Kuno could finally entrap Saotome Ranma and fend off the bids of a dozen of the biggest Houses in the Empire, what could one college-bound teenager do? Dumb old Blue Thunder Kuno could be hoodwinked, avoided, ridiculed behind his back; Kuno-dono, on the other hand, demanded respect and he could destroy people’s lives until he got it.

Hiroshi supposed he could make some small gesture, go over and offer what in effect might be his sword to the Tendos in support, for all it would be worth. He’d heard some of Akane’s female friends talking about doing just that.

Yeah. Hiroshi decided he’d do that.

It seemed like the right thing to do.

/oOo\

Tenoh Haruka and Kaioh Michiru walked through the front door of their home. Shifting the violin case she carried to her other hand, Michiru flipped on the light and smiled fondly over at her lover, dressed in formal masculine garb and cradling their sleeping adopted daughter in her arms.

Haruka smiled back at Michiru, a gentle expression few others ever saw, her eyes travelling over the elegantly dressed green-haired girl. “It was a fine performance, Mi-chan,” the short-haired blonde whispered, “but I’m afraid that, however much little ‘taru enjoys your music, it was just too long for her.” Then, her smile turning lascivious, she added, “Why don’t I put her to bed, and then the two of us can celebrate your solo tonight?”

Michiru’s own smile turned eager and she nodded, only to freeze at the sound of something tapping against glass coming from their kitchen. The two teenagers exchanged glances, then Haruka silently turned and stepped back out the front door while Michiru just as silently leaned the violin case against the door frame and slipped along the wall, down the hall toward the sound. Dropping to a crouch, she looked with one eye around the kitchen entrance, then sighed and rose to her feet. She strode back to the front entrance and called out to Haruka, now crouched by the open door their car. “Come on back, it’s just Setsuna!”

Haruka rose and closed the car door with a foot, then walked back to the house. Before she could ask anything, Michiru said, “Something’s wrong. Let’s get ‘taru put to bed, then get back to the kitchen.”

A few minutes later the pair walked into the kitchen. Haruka’s eyes widened at the sight of Setsuna at the kitchen table lifting a slightly shaking glass to her lips, a half-filled bottle of sake at her elbow and an empty one lying on its side.

The emerald-haired young-seeming woman looked up at their entrance and gave the pair a smile that failed to reach her pain-filled eyes. “Oh, you’re home,” she said, and waved a hand toward the cabinet. “Why don’t you grab a couple of glasses and join me?”

The two younger women exchanged glances, then ignored the offer to sit down on each side of their leader. Haruka carefully took the glass out of Setsuna’s hand and moved the bottle out of her reach, while Michiru gently grasped Setsuna’s other hand. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong!” Setsuna said with a harsh laugh that was half a sob. “All’s right with the world! In a little while we’ll have the Princess join us, and she’ll even be more world-wise and driven — less naïve, if also less innocent. We’ll even be able to get Mercury and Jupiter in the bargain. We’ll be able to stop replacing quality with quantity and burying the corpses of warriors the Empire is going to need badly on down the road, and increase our economic clout. What could be wrong?”

“You tell us,” Haruka replied. “I’ve never seen you like this before — just what did you have to do to accomplish all that?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Setsuna responded with an airy wave. “Just take advantage of as fine a boy as you’ll ever meet as he gives up almost everything he cares about for the girl he loves and her sisters, while setting up another fine young man for death and the destruction of all _he_ cares for instead of arranging the help he needs to deal with his mental problems. But what’s another piece of what’s left of my soul against the future?”

Michiru looked over at Haruka, quirking an eyebrow with a questioning nod toward Setsuna. At Haruka’s nod, Michiru reached up to gently grasp Setsuna’s chin and turn her head toward her. “We do what we have to for the future, and hope we can face ourselves in the mirror when it’s all over. Now, why don’t you forget about the future for awhile, and sacrifice, and death, and join us?” Setsuna stared at Michiru in incomprehension, then her eyes widened as the green-haired girl leaned forward and softly kissed her on the lips.

“I ... but ... you two are ...” the Senshi of Time stammered out.

Haruka rose and stepped behind her, pulling her into a hug from behind. “We’re an item, right? That’s why you’ve tried to hide the once-overs you’ve given us from time to time?” she whispered in Setsuna’s ear, sending a shiver down the woman’s spine, then chuckled when Setsuna nodded. “That’s right, and we don’t sleep with other women — alone. But we _do_ occasionally share one — how much better a good friend than a simple acquaintance? And don’t worry about what Hotaru thinks when she finds you here in the morning, she’s asked once or twice when ‘Auntie Set-chan’ will spend the night.”

Michiru nodded her agreement as she gazed into Setsuna’s questioning eyes, and then leaned forward to put her arms around the two women as tears began to spill down Setsuna’s cheeks and she finally broke down and sobbed.


	12. Lessons in Pleasure

A nervous Ranma stood by the dining room table beside an equally nervous Usagi, waiting for Kuno to arrive. “I can’t believe you won that fight with the clothiers,” Usagi muttered, glancing again in trepidation at Ranma’s red silk blouse and black knee-length split skirt-pants with front and back panels.

“What were they gonna do, _force_ me ta wear the kimono?” Ranma asked with a slightly forced smirk. “Not happenin’. Given a choice between makin’ this fer me or havin’ me parade through the halls naked, what do ya think they were gonna do?”

“But ... but what if Tatewaki-dono doesn’t like it?” Usagi wailed. “He’s gonna — going to — expect you to be wearing a kimono! What if he thinks it’s my fault?!”

_Ah,_ that’s _her problem,_ Ranma thought. “Look, Usagi, ya were assigned ta be my slave, right?” Usagi nodded. “An’ that means ya follow my orders, right?” Usagi nodded again. “Fine, then,” Ranma finished. “This’s my decision, not yours, an’ I’m a martial artist. An’ _that_ means until Kuno orders otherwise I wear clothes I can fight in.”

Usagi just shook her head, obviously unconvinced, then both girls stiffened at the sound of someone entering the suite. “Usagi ... Ranko?” Ranma heard the long familiar and detested voice call out.

“In here, Tatewaki-dono!” the younger blonde called out, and a moment later Kuno appeared in the doorway from the sitting room. “I know you usually bathe first but you’re late and I thought you must be starved so I thought maybe the meal first tonight ...” Usagi babbled, then trailed off as it became obvious that the two girls’ master wasn’t listening to her.

Instead, his eyes were fixed on Ranma. Bathed, her hair undone from its usual pigtail and washed and brushed until it shone, with light makeup applied by Usagi, Ranma was stunningly beautiful. She suppressed a wince at the naked need she saw in the eyes pinned to her. _Come on, kiddo, this is what ya expected when ya came up with this plan in the first place,_ she admonished herself. Taking a deep breath, she bowed low. “Kuno-dono,” she said in a steady (if strained) voice, “what do you desire of your new slave?”

At the sound of Ranma’s voice, Kuno stiffened. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. As he exhaled his eyes opened, the need muted from a roaring fire to embers. “What was that, Usagi?” he asked, then added with a slight smile, “Somewhat slower this time, please.” The maid repeated herself, and Kuno nodded, motioning the two girls toward the table. “You are right, little one, dinner first, then my bath.”

Usagi blushed faintly and hastened to pull out his chair from the table, and Kuno frowned. “Did not Pyo-san explain your new duties?” he asked.

Usagi’s blush deepened. “Oh, right!” she exclaimed, and hastened to beat Ranma to her seat and pulled it out for her. As Kuno seated himself, the maid hurried over to hit the alert by the dumbwaiter and in less than a minute was serving the first course.

/\

Ranma pushed her meal about her plate, then slowly took another bite, carefully keeping her gaze on her meal rather than the man sitting across the table from her. The food was truly excellent, almost as good as Kasumi’s best, but her normal bottomless pit had vanished and she’d had to force herself to take what few bites she’d managed.

“My Lady,” came Kuno’s voice.

Ranma took a deep breath and looked up. “Yes, Kuno-dono?” she asked tonelessly.

The tall, raven-haired man winced. “Please, in private call me Tatewaki,” he requested gently.

“As my master commands ... Tatewaki,” she replied in the same toneless voice.

Kuno stiffened. For a long moment he stared at her, then nodded at her plate. “Is the dinner not to your liking?” he asked.

Ranma shrugged. “It’s fine,” she said. “I’m just not hungry tonight.”

After a moment, Kuno said, “Very well. If you are hungry later, simply use the speaker by the dumbwaiter. There is staff on hand in the kitchen at all times to provide whatever you wish.

“But now, it is time for my bath, and for you to change for the night,” he continued. He rose to his feet, then, when Usagi moved away from where she’d been standing by the wall, nodded to a suddenly wide-eyed Ranma frozen in her seat. “Usagi, please see to your mistress,” he ordered. Her face fell, and he grinned slightly. “I know how much you enjoy helping me with my baths, but there will be other nights. Tonight, your mistress needs you.”

Usagi followed his gaze, looking at Ranma in confusion, then dawning comprehension. “Of course, Tatewaki-dono,” she said. As Kuno strode from the dining room she hastened over to the other girl and gently shook her shoulder. “Come on, while he’s bathing let’s get you ready,” she quietly said.

/oOo\

A stiff, pale Ranma, hands clenched into fists, stared at the almost ethereal beauty dressed only in a translucent green sleeveless teddy. The neckline, if it could be called that, plunged to her waist, and the sides were high-cut, leaving her ass cheeks bare.

Beside her, a by now somewhat concerned Usagi looked her over. “Ranko-sama, you’re beautiful,” she said. When Ranma failed to respond, she reached out and placed her hand on the redhead’s shoulder. “Listen, this won’t be like what Ranma did to you, you’ll see,” Usagi assured her mistress. “It’ll be so different, it’ll be like your first time. Makoto said she couldn’t imagine a better first time, and that was a couple years ago, when Tatewaki-dono was only seventeen. He’s surely gotten even better since.”

Ranma gave the younger girl a forced smile, slowly unclenching her fists. _Yeah, right...._ “A’ course, yer right,” she said brightly, then slipped her arms through the sleeves of the robe Usagi held up for her.

The two girls turned at the soft sound of approaching footsteps on the hardwood floor, to find a robed Kuno standing behind them, bright eyes fixed on the petite redhead, her robe hanging open, revealing the gauzy teddy. Kuno’s robe quickly tented at his groin. “Usagi, I believe we will not need your services for the rest of the night,” he said in a tight voice without looking at the maid. Usagi glanced between the other two, smiled encouragingly at Ranma, then bowed to the two and quickly left.

As the sound of Usagi’s footsteps came from the sitting room, then the corridor leading to her room and the small dojo, the two left behind simply stood and gazed at each other. Finally, Kuno stepped forward and laid a hand on Ranma’s shoulder. “Come, my love,” he murmured, gently pulling her toward the large bed in the center of the room.

Ranma stiffly walked as directed, stopping by the bed and waiting. Kuno slowly slid the robe off her shoulders until it slipped down her arms to pool about her feet. The tall kendoist sat on the bed, then turned Ranma around and pulled her down to sit on his lap, her legs straddling his.

Ranma gasped, her eyes squeezing shut at the feel of Kuno’s cloth-covered erection pressing against her almost-bare ass. The old protest — _I’m a guy, dammit!_ — echoed through her mind and the years-old hate and contempt for the man holding her filled her, demanding she push him away, attack, give him the beating of a lifetime.... She froze as she felt the need brought up short, her muscles locked as the newly implanted imperative slammed into her. For a brief second she braced herself to throw herself at the bindings in her mind, then forced herself to stop, to relax muscle by muscle. _Ya promised,_ she berated herself. _Until Kuno moves against the Tendos, you’ll be a good slave — ya gave yer word, and ya knew this was comin’ when ya did, so do it!_

Opening her eyes, Ranma realized she’d spent minutes fighting for control, and the arms around her waist holding her in place hadn’t moved. “Master?” Then, remembering his ‘request’ at dinner, said, “Sorry — Tatewaki?”

For a long moment there was no response, then his hands slipped from around her waist up to her shoulders, and Ranma stiffened, sucking in a breath, as they slid the shoulders of the teddy off and down her arms, baring her full breasts. She braced herself as her arms were pulled out of the arm openings one at a time, leaving the teddy’s fabric bunched around her hips, but then Kuno’s arms returned to her now bare waist.

For a few minutes silence reigned, until Ranma again relaxed. Finally, Kuno spoke. “I can only imagine what horrors that monster inflicted on you,” he whispered softly. “What perversions he forced on you, what depravities you were compelled to take part in. You have my oath, I will ask nothing of you but the natural dance of a man and a woman. You may find this difficult at first, I can understand how that would be after what you have experienced. But in time you will recover your delight in these oldest and greatest of pleasures, this I swear!”

_I ... he ... what?! He thinks I was —_ Ranma’s skittering thoughts broke off as Kuno’s hands again rose, sliding along her abdomen, tracing the hard muscles left by her training regimen. They continued their journey up along her torso, quickly running along the underside of her fulsome breasts, fingers tracing up and along where the soft mounds merged with her chest, around, down the valley between them, and Ranma froze, gasping as Kuno’s hands cupped them, forefingers stroking across her nipples. The gentle stimulation sent sparks of pleasure shooting through her, familiar from her own earlier occasional secret explorations of the body the curse had given her, taken on the few opportunities she’d had for true, secure privacy. But this was pleasure being given by another’s hands, another man’s, Kuno’s, erratic, unpredictable....

She could sense the revulsion she would have normally been feeling, the disgust at the thought of another man’s hands on her, the feelings that had powered the nightmare she’d had after Kuno’s first declaration of love, but they were distant, untouchable, as if a sheet of glass stronger than steel had slid between that part of her psyche and her core self.

She realized that Kuno had said something, and she had no idea what. “I’m ... ahh! ... I’m sorry ... Tatewaki ... what did you s-say?” she managed to ask.

“I said, ‘Why weren’t you wearing a kimono at dinner’?” he asked again, and she could swear she’d heard a smile in the words.

If so, that smile vanished at her next words. “Tate — n-no ... ahhh! ... Master! M-Master, am I still a ... ohhh ... a martial a-artist, not j-j-just a bedwarmer?”

The hands on her breast stopped in place. “Of course you are! Even more than your beauty, it was your passion-driven skill that first attracted me to you. How could I ask the flower of my soul to give up the very petals through which her glory is revealed?” Kuno asked.

“Then I will wear clothes that allow me to fight,” Ranma returned.

“I see....” Kuno mused, even as his hands returned to their labor, and Ranma almost didn’t catch his next words through the distraction of her again-rising pleasure: “I had not considered that — I have done you a disservice. But enough of that for now.”

One hand dropped, to slide its fingers underneath the fabric pooled about her hips, down between her parted legs. Ranma’s back arched and she hissed as a finger ran across her clit, then down through her folds, pealing the crotch of the teddie, soaked with her juices, away from her mound. “Ah, I think ...” The smile was back in the tone of Kuno’s whispered voice, and a finger slipped up inside her sopping sheath. “Yes, I’d say you’re ready.”

_Reeaaddyy?_ The thought ran through Ranma’s pleasure-befuddled mind even as her hips tried to buck. Then Kuno pulled his finger out, his other hand dropping, and the befuddlement was blown away by shock as he lifted her from his lap and swung her around to lay her down on the bed. _I ... what was I doing? What was I_ thinking _? I ... I’m a man...._

Even as that thought raced through Ranma’s mind, Kuno slid her teddie down along her legs and over her feet and tossed it aside, then stood erect and shrugged off his robe, letting it fall to the floor, showing that it had been his only garment. Ranma stared at the rampant erection now on display, of a size with the tall man’s body, and the blood drained from her face, causing the room to whirl and tilt for a moment. _I’m ... I’m tiny, and he’s ... how is that going to fit?!_ The feelings sealed away surged, and the redhead felt as if her mind shivered from their impact on the barrier holding them back. _No! If that fails, I’ll ... I’ll have to ..._ Ranma closed her eyes, throwing herself into the fight to strengthen the barrier, hold it in place.

“Yes, that’s it, just relax, leave everything to me, forget what has gone before, live only for the now ...” she faintly heard Kuno murmur as he grasped the undersides of her thighs and lifted her legs up and wide. The bed shifted as he sat on it, positioning himself between her legs. Even as she fought back her blocked emotions and attitudes he released his hold on one leg, allowing it to fall to the side. A moment later Ranma’s eyes snapped open as she felt what must be the head of his cock, much thicker than any finger, slowly run along her dripping folds, then return to the center of her cleft and slowly push its way in.

The hand that had been guiding the erection to its destination returned to its place holding her legs wide open, and Ranma sucked in a deep breath, whimpering slightly as Kuno slowly eased his cock in deeper and deeper, a little at a time, giving her time to adjust to the new sensations, until at last she felt his pubic hair press against her clean-shaven mound with what felt like a thick rod reaching up to her chest.

“You’re so tight....” Kuno groaned as he bottomed out, then leaned forward over her, supporting himself by his arms. ‘R-Ranma ... must not ... have been much ... of a man....”

_He didn’t just say that!_ Ranma thought. She started to glare at her master, when he pulled back a bit and gave a gentle thrust, and Ranma’s sight went white with pleasure from both the cock rubbing against her vaginal walls stretched to what _had_ to be their limits and Kuno’s pelvis pressing against her clit. Ranma’s nights with Akane had been clumsy, faltering, two virgins’ explorations of each other’s bodies based on stories and innuendo (and in Ranma’s case some self-exploration of his girl side). As wonderful, and gentle, and sweet as those nights had been, two young people in love connecting as never before, everything this was not, they had not included the sheer pleasure that Kuno, with his years of constant experience, was giving his new slave now. Coherent thought fled as Ranma arched her back, found herself thrusting her hips up to meet Kuno’s plunging pelvis, panting, gasping, giving little half-shrieks each time his body pushed against her pleasure button.

Then all the pleasure she felt before was dwarfed as the world exploded, her orgasm ripping through her, driving her under.

When she slowly became aware of the world once again, she found herself lying on top of her master’s sweat-slicked body, his hands running along her own sweaty flanks. His cock was still buried up inside her and, from the stretched to bursting feeling, still fully erect. Woozily, she lifted her head slightly and gave it a little shake, then looked at Kuno’s face.

Kuno smiled back at her. “Ranko, was that not finer than anything you’ve ever felt — finer than anything the foul sorcerer ever did to you?”

Yes — yes, it was. “Yes, it was,” she murmured wearily, then gasped as he again began to slowly piston into her, the pleasure again beginning to radiate from between her legs to pulse through her.

“And it is but a beginning,” she heard Kuno say with a chuckle. Then, as the edges of the world again seemed to blur, Ranma faintly heard him add, “And someday — soon — the divine Akane will be free to join us.”

/oOo\

Lying on her back in the dark, Ranma listened to Kuno-dono breath in his sleep, staring at a ceiling invisible in the dark. The sex had seemed to go on forever, but eventually even a man as fit as Kuno-dono tired out. Now he was out like a light, lying on his side with one arm draped across Ranma’s stomach, hand resting casually atop a breast. But as enervating as the almost nonstop pleasure had been, sleep wouldn’t come for the redhead.

Finally, she gently shifted the hand from its resting place to lie alongside her, then carefully slid from out of the bed and made her silent way to the bathroom. Closing the door, she turned on the lights, then stepped in front of the huge wall mirror and stared at herself — hair streaked and body covered with dried sweat, her thighs and lower abdomen smeared with her juices and her master’s seed — Ranma gasped as again she somehow _felt_ the feelings of revulsion, disgust, rejection batter against the barrier the Adjustment had placed between them and the rest of her mind.

Even as she threw herself into strengthening that barrier, the redhead whirled from the mirror to grab the rinse bucket and scrubbing brush. She quickly soaped and scrubbed herself clean, then again, then again, once more....

Finally, skin raw from the scrubbing, Ranma forced herself to set aside the brush and poured one last rinse bucket over her head. As she stood up she briefly considered the steaming furo, but turned away to towel dry then take down and shrug into a shimmering blue robe hanging on the wall beside another — it only came down to mid-thigh but covered everything important and the other robe was obviously for a much larger person — then braided her hair into its usual pigtail. That done, Ranma turned off the light and opened the door back to the bedroom — her master was still sleeping soundly. She quietly slipped across the room and had her hand on the knob of the door leading to the sitting room when she paused. _Damn, almost forgot my ... my collar. Now, where is it ... ?_ After thinking back over the afternoon’s meandering, the redhead made her way back to the bathroom, and the makeup table. A few minutes later, chain once again tight around her neck, she slipped out of the suite.

It took some time and a few wrong turns, but eventually Ranma made her way through corridors dark except for the occasional dim light to a door leading to a small flower garden that she remembered from the tour Usagi had given her that afternoon, lit now only by the full moon. Sitting on a small bench, she took a deep breath, smiling slightly at the relaxing scent of flowers chosen as much for their fragrance as their beauty.

Suddenly, she stiffened slightly at a half-sensed presence at her back. _Okay, so they aren’t_ all _as good as Pyo,_ she thought with a grin. “Ya can relax,” she said to the patrolling ninja she knew had to be behind her. “I’m just takin’ a stroll, not tryin’ ta escape.”

For a moment there was silence, than a young female voice softly said, “Very well, Ranma, but do not go further from the mansion than this garden — there are traps and defenses on the grounds. It would be a shame if you were to stumble into one in the dark and die the very day you joined our household.”

Ranma’s eyebrows rose at the use of her true name. _So they know who I am, even if Kuno doesn’t._ “Got it,” she responded. “This’s as far as I was plannin’ on goin’, anyway.”

There was no response, but shortly the sense of presence faded. Ranma was once again alone with her thoughts, and she felt a hollow sensation in her gut, impacts against the Barrier again sending shivers through her mind, as despite her best attempts to focus on something else — anything else — her memories again played over the evening’s events, the feel of Kuno’s strong but oddly gentle hands stroking her, bringing her to orgasm again and again even as the couple switched from missionary position to doggie style to cowgirl and back, variation after variation ... variations Ranma and Akane had tried themselves during their two nights.

Ranma had to chuckle even as she relaxed and smiled to herself, memories of those nights drifting through her mind. She had to admit, when it came to skill Kuno had her beat hands down, his attentions dwarfing Ranma’s half-guessed fumblings. Still, the gasps, half-shrieks, smiles and occasional laughter Akane had shared with him those nights told the redhead now that the youngest Tendo had truly enjoyed the time together, the bittersweet happiness of shared lovemaking, however inexperienced her lover might have been, and when this whole mess was over, the curse was unlocked, and they were together again, he was going to make those nights seem like the fumblings they’d been, show Akane how it was done, with the spice of the love they’d felt that had been missing tonight added to the mix —

_That’s it!_ Ranma thought, sitting up straight. _It’s trainin’, teachin’ me how ta make Akane happy when the time comes!_ Again, Ranma’s mind played across the sex she’d just experienced, but now she focused on the _way_ Kuno had pleasured her rather than the pleasure itself — and the shivering of the Barrier died away as she fell into the familiar pattern of review and analysis, seeking to learn the secrets of her competitors’ Art.

/\

Kodachi silently drifted through the grounds of the Kuno Family mansion, returning from the party to end all parties. She’d been on benders and sex-binges from time to time, but never before to match this one, and she felt it down to her bones — however much fun it had been, all good things must end eventually, and it was definitely time to bring this one to a close and face the new head of the family, her stuck-up, honor-obsessed, delusional brother. With _him_ in charge she wasn’t likely to get away with this again — though perhaps that would be better than her father’s absolute indifference to anything of importance in her life. At least her brother would care how she spent her time, if only because of the way it reflected on the Family Honor. Still, it could wait till daylight — the afternoon, more likely....

Then, approaching the door closest to the family living quarters, the gymnast froze at the sight of someone that had to be Ranma sitting on a bench in the garden just outside the door. The night precluded color vision, but the size and shape were right for Ranma’s girl form, even if she wasn’t dressed in her customary Chinese shirt and pants. Kodachi smiled to herself. Okay, perhaps the fun wasn’t _quite_ over.

Falling back out of sight, Kodachi slipped out of her wrinkled and stained clothing, pulled a purple leotard out of her purse and slipped it on, pulled out a gymnastic ribbon, and smiled broadly. _Show Time!_

“OH HO HO HO HO!”

The seated figure whipped upright and fell into her usual deceptively casual defensive stance with gratifying speed, and Kodachi smiled to herself as she flipped and cartwheeled toward the smaller girl, ribbon whirling protectively around her, her off-centered ponytail whipping about as she spun — however much Ranma might outclass her, the sometimes petite redhead at least took her _somewhat_ seriously. _Now, how should I play this ... ?_ Then Kodachi saw the moonlight glinting off a familiar accessory about the other girl’s neck, and her gyrating approach abruptly went from graceful to catastrophically out of control. Only a quick intercept by Ranma kept her from cracking her head open on the stone bench the redhead had been sitting on.

“R-R-Ranma — what do you have around your neck?!” she gasped out, staring at Ranma’s necklace even as the redhead levered her up to sit on the bench.

“Yer family’s slave collar, what d’ya think?” Ranma responded curtly.

“I ... yes, I can see that, but ... _why_?”

Ranma snorted. “The auction was today. Who else was gonna win it?”

“Auction? What auction? What’s going on?” Kodachi asked plaintively.

“You’re kidding, right? How can ya not know what’s goin’ on? Where have ya _been_ the past month?” Ranma suspiciously demanded, stepping back.

Kodachi shrugged. “I’ve been out celebrating ever since I learned of my father’s death,” she responded. “So what _has_ been going on?”

Ranma simply stared for a long moment, then shrugged in turn and told her.

When her story ran down, Kodachi sat in stunned silence for a time, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I knew my brother was delusional, but this ... oh Ranma, I’m so sorry!”

“Not yer fault ...” the smaller girl started, only to break off in mid-phrase. “Wait a minute, ya called me Ranma!”

Kodachi sighed. _Yes, all good things come to an end...._ “That _is_ your name, is it not?” she asked archly even as she wiped at her tears-dampened face.

“Well, yes, but ya always ... how long have ya known?” Ranma demanded.

“That you and ‘my Ranma-sama’ are the same person? Almost from the beginning,” the gymnast replied with a giggle.

“But, if ya knew, why’d ya do all that crazy stuff?” Ranma asked.

Kodachi shrugged. “It was fun,” she said. “Besides, mix my Family’s wealth with a reputation for being mad, and you’d be surprised what you can get away with — truly liberating. Not that that’ll work any longer, with my brother in charge,” she finished resignedly. “But I’m not the one in real trouble. Ranma, I know we aren’t friends, I’ve been having too much fun playing with you for that, but if there’s anything I can do for you, please ask.”

Ranma stared at her for a moment, obviously doubtful, then shrugged. “I’ll think about it,” she said curtly.

Kodachi stiffened in outrage at the apparent rejection, then slumped. “I suppose I deserved that,” she murmured, and wearily rose to her feet as the adrenaline rush from first seeing Ranma subsided. Walking back out into the night to retrieve her soiled clothes and purse, she then headed for the door that had been her original destination. “Well, I hear a bed calling for me, very loudly — and empty one, just for sleep, finally. I will see you later.”

Ranma yawned, looking surprised. Standing, she followed Kodachi toward the door. “Ya know, I think I can sleep now, myself.”


	13. We Carry On

Setsuna abruptly came awake in a tangle of limbs, sandwiched by her two bed partners of the previous night, as someone bounced on the bed. Eyes flying open, she found herself staring into the wide eyes of Haruka, and simultaneously the two turned their heads to stare at a broadly smiling Hotaru. “Auntie Set-chan, you’re here!” the normally quiet child crowed, burrowing down between the two bemused adults as well as the blankets stretched over them allowed. “Are you going to be my Setsuna-mama now?”

Setsuna reluctantly shook her head as she untangled herself to turn onto her back and slip an arm out from under the blankets and around Hotaru. “I’m sorry, ‘taru-chan, but even if your parents asked I would have to refuse — I’m constantly watched, and if I moved in all of you would be, as well. That would be ... very bad.” Then, glancing first at Haruka and then at Michiru, now sitting up beside her uncaring that the blankets had slipped to her waist, the Senshi of Time added softly, “But last night was truly wonderful, and just what I needed — it certainly beat drinking myself into a stupor and waking up with a massive hangover. Thank you.”

Michiru smiled gently. “You’re very welcome. And though having you move in might be a bad idea, feel free to spend as many nights as you can here, even if only to sleep. Right, Haruka?”

The short-haired blonde nodded vigorously. “Of course, whenever it’s safe.”

Hotaru’s face had fallen at first at Setsuna’s refusal, but now she brightened back up. “Yeah, you hafta come here a lot!” she insisted.

Setsuna laughed, the previous night’s ghosts momentarily banished from her eyes. “As often as I can, dear heart,” she replied, then sighed reluctantly. “But now, I have to get to work. There’s a lot to do, and not much time to do it.”

“Awww,” Hotaru pouted, but Haruka pulled the girl over to her and set her fingers to work tickling a giggling fit from her adopted daughter as Michiru swung her legs out of bed and stood up, coolly ignoring the appreciative look-over Setsuna gave her.

“Go ahead and get cleaned up,” the obviously naturally green-haired girl said as she grabbed a robe and started for the door. “By the time you’re done I’ll have some breakfast ready.”

Setsuna slipped out of bed and started to turn toward the door to the master bathroom, then paused and turned back toward her new part-time lover still in the bed and holding a wriggling girl. “Haruka, while I’m getting cleaned up, would you contact Venus, Mars and Endymion, ask them to be at the shrine this afternoon? We’ll need to go over the latest incursions.” At Haruka’s nod she disappeared into the bathroom.

/oOo\

In a cheap hotel in the Juuban business district, Kino Makoto pushed her chair back from the computer and snarled even as she slumped in place — her job hunt had not been going well. _There just aren’t any unskilled jobs that I could handle that pay enough,_ she thought despairingly, _not for someone living alone, and getting a roommate that will want to be_ just _a roommate will be tough. Sure, Kuno-dono was more than generous, with that huge bonus on top of cancelling my family’s debt. But the money won’t stretch more than a few months, well, maybe a couple years if I get a job as a drudge. The maid jobs pay more, but who’ll hire me as a maid after the last couple of years as a full use slave — at least without expecting extra ‘service’ on the side?_

The earth-haired girl straightened in her seat and bit her lip as she peered at the monitor screen again. _I suppose I could take one of the jobs at a brothel — it wouldn’t be_ that _much different than the last two years, and the pay’s good enough that I could keep up my schooling and take lessons in cooking or the martial arts, complete the training I picked up in the Kuno household. Then once I have some proof of my other skills I could ..._

“Having trouble with the job hunt, Kino-san?”

Makoto whirled up out of her seat, falling into a defensive stance at the sound of the strange woman’s voice from behind her, her eyes widening at the sight of the stranger. Before her stood a tall, emerald-haired young-seeming woman (though for some reason she couldn’t seem to remember what her face looked like from one moment to the next) of aristocratic bearing wearing a black-skirted and -collared fuku with red bows, holding with one hand a staff topped by a huge garnet in the middle of a heart-shaped arc of silver, the other hand holding an eight-inch-long rod of green wood surmounted by a gold star. “Who are you, how do you know me, and what are you doing in my room?” Makoto snarled, trying to shake off the sudden feeling that she knew this woman from somewhere, knew her well.

The strange woman calmly stepped back, sitting in the chair against the wall from the teenager. “My name is Sailor Pluto, and I’m here to offer you a job — two jobs, in fact.” She smiled sadly at Makoto’s sudden interest. “The first is as a cook’s helper at the local hospital,” she continued. “You’ll like working there, the chief cook is a gentle soul, the hospital administrator — Mizuno-san — won’t hold your past as a full use slave against you, she’s a temporary slave herself right now if not full use. And she will want to hear about how her daughter Ami is doing. The second job ... is very dangerous.” She held out the short green rod to Makoto, who took it automatically. “This is yours — Sailor Jupiter.”

/oOo\

Katsuhito looked up from the scroll he was reading at the sense of a sudden spike of power — familiar, unfortunately. Rising to his feet, he strode out of his little study at the Masaki Shrine and on outside, circling the building and walking into a grove. In the clearing in the middle of the grove, as expected, he found Sailor Pluto calmly waiting for him. He paused at the edge of the clearing to stare at the young-seeming immortal as he fought to control a rising tide of impotent rage.

Finally, when he could keep his voice under control, he spoke: “So, what does the world’s premier go master wish with this humble priest?”

There was no visible reaction from the emerald-haired woman, though her eyes seemed to darken for a moment. “Chess, not go,” she responded. “Some pieces are more useful, and valuable, than others.”

“So, is Ranma a queen, or just a pawn in one of your little games?” Katsuhito asked bitterly.

Pluto surprised him with a harsh laugh. “Oh, definitely a queen, with him I’m going to break open the whole slavery question in the Empire — or at least plant the seeds. Not to mention ‘blotting out the memory of Kuno from under heaven’, to paraphrase the Christians’ holy book.” Taking a ragged breath, she forced herself back under control. “Actually, in a way that’s what I’m here for. I might have had to sacrifice Ranma to the future, but I can at least try to limit the fallout.”

Intrigued against his will, Katsuhito gazed at her for a long moment, finally asking, “How?”

“By keeping his loved ones alive, as best I can.”

“And how can I help with that, without breaking my own cover and drawing the attention of the Empire?” he asked suspiciously. “Or are you going to demand that I come out into the open?”

“You mean more than you already have?” the Senshi of Time asked, then chuckled softly at his slightly shamefaced nod. “No,” she said, “I’m not going to ask you to reveal yourself in all your power, I know better than to ask for what your duty forbids — but how would you feel about taking on a student?” The priest stiffened, and she hastily continued, “Not an advanced student, I’m not asking you to teach your family’s style. It’s Ranma’s mother, you see — she carries the Saotome Blade, but she doesn’t really know how to use it. Would you be willing to teach her the basics?”

“Why me?” Katsuhito asked suspiciously.

Pluto shrugged. “You’re very good, and you’ve already come out into the open to an extent by bidding on Ranma at all — continuing your involvement by volunteering to teach Nodoka the sword won’t make that worse, and might give you the opportunity to allay the suspicions of the Tokko.”

Gazing at the woman he perhaps detested more than any other living, the greatest swordsman of the Empire of Jurai finally nodded. “I will visit the Tendo dojo tomorrow, and offer myself as a sensei — but for the basics only.”

Pluto nodded. “That’s all I could ask—and perhaps all you will have time for, anyway. And Katsuhito? Thank you,” she finished softly.

“I’m not doing it for —” Katsuhito started angrily, only to break off when he found himself talking to empty air.

/oOo\

Ryoga sat in front of the odd stone building on the top of a strange vine-covered stepped pyramid watching the sun rise over the edge of the rain forest on the other side of the clearing, fighting to keep depression from overwhelming him. He didn’t know how many hours it had been since his shouted his oath to the quickly cheering crowd (and hadn’t _that_ been embarrassing), but as he had wandered since he had cudgeled his brain for a way to make it a reality — and had come up dry, other than to trust to luck and hope for the best. And just how well had that worked for him so far?

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a woman’s voice asked from beside him, and the sometimes-piglet whirled to find an emerald-haired, fuku-clad seeming-young woman (though his eyes seemed to slide away from her face) standing beside him, leaning on a garnet-tipped staff. She was watching the sun rise, listening to the sounds of the rain forest’s inhabitants starting their day. “You know, that’s one thing I envy you about your blessing — sights like this on a regular basis.” Turning to look at the dumbstruck teenager, she added, “Certainly, I can choose to visit where I please, in the rare moments I can spare, but the sheer seeming randomness of your wanderings must add a whole new level of mystery and wonder to it.”

Staring at the madwoman, Ryoga finally managed to collect his scattered thoughts to ask the first thing that came to the forefront of his mind. “ _Blessing?_ You mean my sense of direction?”

Smiling impishly, the woman sat down. “Yes, your sense of direction. It must be handy, being able to get where you need to go just by walking.”

“Where I need to go? What are you talking about? It’s a curse, it’s sent me all over the world, without friends or family —”

“And helped you become what you wanted most, a match — or at least a near-match — for Ranma. Who else has managed to stay within shouting distance of his skill as a warrior?”

“Well — no one,” Ryoga admitted.

The woman nodded. “And it’s at least in part because of your odd sense of direction that you’ve had the opportunities needed to do that. That’s how it works — it won’t give you your heart’s desire, but it will take you where you need to go to find it, or earn it, or learn what you need to obtain it.

“And it will even change its focus as your desires change — why do you think you just happened to be on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial when you swore your oath to free Ranma?”

“Where?”

“Look it up sometime, you ought to appreciate Abraham Lincoln ... now. Anyway, you’re having trouble coming up with a way to help Ranma, aren’t you?”

Ryoga stared at the woman, thoughts too scattered to even notice how skimpily she was dressed. She patiently waited, and he finally nodded. “You already seem to know everything else, so yeah, I can’t really think of anything beyond just charging in and pulling him out.”

“And you’d have to beat him first, since Ranma wouldn’t leave with you willingly — not with the promise he made to Kuno,” she finished, and Ryoga nodded. “Still, there’s something you haven’t considered. What’s Ranma’s greatest strength as a fighter?”

Ryoga leaned back against the vine-covered wall at his back and stared thoughtfully at the forest clearing below. “His flexibility,” he finally said. “I’m stronger than he is, tougher, my chi attacks are more powerful, I think I’m as skilled, but whatever I come up with might work against him twice if I’m lucky — sometimes it doesn’t even work the first time, he’ll come up with a counter before I finish the attack.”

“Right,” the maybe-not-a-madwoman agreed. “And do you think Kuno is going to be able to keep his word to Ranma?”

“Not a chance,” Ryoga replied instantly.

“Does Ranma know that?”

“Of course he ... does,” Ryoga said, suddenly thoughtful. “Ranma’s already got a plan, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, he does, and he’ll take care of Kuno just fine, when the time comes. So what we need to do is see to it that he also escapes the legal consequences of killing one of the wealthiest men in the Empire. And that’s where you come in.”

“What can I do?” Ryoga asked eagerly.

“Use you ‘sense of direction’ to travel the world, to the various Kuno estates, except for the family estate in Nerima, and cause as much damage as possible. You don’t need to kill anyone, just use the Breaking Point to blow things up, knock buildings down, cost the Kunos as much as you can.”

“That’s it, nothing else?” Ryoga asked.

The impish smile was back. “Just that.”

“And what will that do?”

“Other than bleed the Kuno coffers dry? Kuno-dono will never know where you’ll strike next,” the woman replied immediately. “Understandable, since you won’t know, either. And so he’ll either have to spread his security forces all over the globe, or concentrate them somewhere and hope you stumble into them. Which means when the time comes they won’t be in Nerima.”

Ryoga thought it over, and a harsh smile spread across his face. “I like it,” he murmured, nodding. “I’ll do it.”

The definitely-not-a-madwoman smiled and nodded back. “Good, thank you.” She looked out across the clearing for a moment, then sighed and rose. “Well, no rest for the wicked,” she said, face going grimly sad for a moment.

Not that Ryoga noticed. Now that his inner turmoil had settled he was abruptly aware of the skimpily-covered beauty of the woman beside him — especially since he was looking directly up under her short skirt. When he again regained consciousness, she was gone.

/oOo\

Akane slowly came awake, relaxing for a moment at the feel of an arm draped across her midsection. But that wasn’t a man’s chest pressing against her back... Then the memories of the previous day’s events — the auction, the stream of well-wishers — hit her, and she stiffened as her eyes shot open to find herself staring across Kasumi’s room at the door to the hallway. She felt the arm about her waist tighten for a moment, then the mattress shifted as Kasumi sat up behind her and a gentle hand stroked her hair.

“I won’t ask how you feel,” her oldest sister said softly, “but are you rested? Can you face the day?”

Akane sighed, but after a moment pushed herself up into a sitting position and turned to face Kasumi. The blankets fell about her waist, and she was surprised to find herself wearing only the panties she’d worn the previous day and hastily pulled the blanket up over her chest. She didn’t know why she was suddenly so body-conscious, it wasn’t like she hadn’t spent many an hour soaking in the furo with her sisters, but since the nights she’d spent with Ranma she was. She nodded, pasting on a tremulous smile as she ignored her furious blush. “Yeah, I can. I can’t simply hide from everyone, Ranma ... R-Ranma wouldn’t like it,” she managed to get out past the lump in her throat. _And it’s not like I’ll be going through what_ he’s _facing right now,_ she thought, shuddering slightly as for a moment her imagination insisted on tossing up images of a female Ranma tied to a bed as a viscously grinning Kuno loomed over her and —

She felt Kasumi’s arms slip around her, pulling her into a hug, and realized her eyes were closed, every muscle stiff. Forcing her body to slowly relax muscle by muscle, she fought the imagined scene out of the forefront of her mind and opened her eyes again. “Sorry to zone out on you,” she said to her sister with a brittle smile, then stiffened again at the sight of the clock on Kasumi’s shelf/dresser. “Look at the time!” she almost shouted, scrambling out of bed. “I’ve been keeping you trapped in bed and everyone else is going hungry —”

“No, they aren’t,” Kasumi said, shaking her head. “Auntie Nodoka insisted she would handle breakfast this morning when she shooed us off to bed.”

Akane paused in the middle of hastily picking up the previous day’s clothing from where she found it scattered on the floor. “Are you sure?” she asked. “I don’t remember that.”

“I’m not surprised,” Kasumi replied, eyes darkening. “I doubt you remember much of yesterday afternoon. You were too ... haunted.”

Akane thought back, and found her sister was right. She could hazily remember various neighbors and friends — or even just acquaintances — from school, vague words she couldn’t really understand, and scene after scene playing behind her eyes of Kuno and the redhead that was half of the person that had somehow become the center of her life... Shuddering slightly, she once again forced the images from her mind — she almost wished for the return of the nightmares that had haunted her for days, of the day she had helped her father commit seppuku. “You’re right. So, let’s see what Auntie Nodoka has waiting for us.”

The two girls quickly dressed and made their way downstairs to the family room, where they found Nodoka moving about, tidying up and dusting, her cheerful manner clashing with the dark circles under her eyes. A bleary-eyed Nabiki, sitting at the low table finishing her own breakfast, hair disheveled and also dressed in the previous day’s clothes, looked up as the two entered and weakly smiled. She opened her mouth and froze, a conflicted look on her face, and Akane surprised everyone (including herself) with a chuckle. “I’ll be survive, big sis — I have to ... to take care of myself so I’ll be ready when Ranma comes home.”

Nabiki ignored the catch in her younger sister’s voice and nodded, smile becoming somewhat stronger. “Good thought, little sis, you hold on to it.” She reached up to cover her mouth as a huge yawn forced its way out.

“Oh my, weren’t you able to sleep, Nabiki?” Kasumi hesitantly asked. “Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m fine, big sis,” Nabiki replied after fighting down the yawn. ““But no, I didn’t sleep at all last night, too much to think about. In fact,” she added, rising to her feet as another yawn broke out, “I’m headed to bed right now.”

/oOo\

Akane, freshly bathed and in her workout clothes, walked toward the dojo, grumbling a little to herself. It had seemed ridiculous to wash up before coming out to find Genma, but Kasumi had insisted — one did not go before one’s sensei smelling of stale sweat, even if one left that sensei smell of fresh sweat. Stepping through the dojo’s doorway, her eyes widened at what she found there. Genma’s head briefly turned at her approach, then turned back again to add his focus to that of the apparent (now former) gorgeous part-time waitress at Ucchan’s on the former ‘cute fiancée’ as she ran through a basic kata, one that was _very_ familiar to the youngest Tendo.

Akane’s hands curled into fists, and she closed her eyes. _You can’t attack them, you might be pregnant, you can’t attack them, you might be pregnant, you can’t attack them ..._ she repeated over and over, as she listened to the sounds of Ukyo practicing. Then the sounds stopped, and she opened her eyes to find Genma and Ukyo looking at her in confusion.

“What’s wrong, Sugar?” Ukyo asked.

Akane whirled to Genma, shaking with anger. “You couldn’t wait even one day to find a replacement for Ranma, could you? While Ranma’s being ... being ... you’re already looking for someone to replace his as your gravy train!”

“What are you talking about? I told you yest —” Ukyo started to say, only to break off when Genma placed a hand on her shoulder.

“How well do you remember yesterday after the auction?” he asked.

Akane flinched. “Not very well, actually,” she muttered, eyes dropping and shoulders drooping as she deflated. “I couldn’t stop thinking ... about ...”

Ukyo stepped forward and embraced her former rival. “Me, neither,” she whispered.

Akane returned the embrace, gasping as she fought to keep from breaking down again. _Enough, I’ve cried enough. I need to be strong, like Ranma,_ she told herself as she forced back the tears. Finally breaking the hug, she stepped back. “All right, if you aren’t looking for a replacement heir, what is going on?” she asked.

Ukyo glanced at Genma, and he nodded. “Tell her again,” he instructed.

A quick explanation later, and Akane was shaking her head in confusion. “You aren’t looking for another heir, but you adopt Ukyo? How is that not looking for another heir?” she asked, trying her best to hold on to her temper. It seemed so obvious — but so much about Ranma had seemed obvious, as well, and look how much time they’d wasted. And Ukyo had been so comforting just a few minutes ago....

“Yes, Ukyo is now a Saotome, or will be as soon as it is officially registered,” Genma agreed, “but she isn’t going to be my heir — she’s going to be yours.”

Akane stiffened in shock. “ _My_ heir?” she squeaked.

Ukyo nodded. “While I can’t use my family art, it _is_ weapons-based. That means of the two branches of the Anything Goes School, I should have the easiest time learning the Tendo rather than the Saotome one.”

“I ... but ... I can’t ...” Akane’s hand dropped unconsciously to her abdomen. “I can’t spar for awhile, at least, I’m not old enough to teach, and ...” She broke off for a moment, eyes dropping in shame. Finally, she whispered, “I don’t really know enough of Dad’s Art. I tried to learn it, but without his help I couldn’t even really master the basics — Ranma proved that, often enough.”

“Not a problem,” Genma asserted, and Akane raised her head, an ember of hope igniting. The stout middle-aged man walked over to a chest sitting on the floor against the dojo wall that Akane had failed to notice until now. “Yesterday, during the auction, I searched Soun’s bedroom,” Genma continued, “and I found what I expected.” He raised the chest’s lid, and Akane stared at its contents — scroll upon scroll. “The secrets of the Tendo School of Anything —” Genma got out, before Akane slammed into him, arms wrapped around his chest, squeezing with all her strength.

“Yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she babbled. Her father’s life hadn’t been wasted, after all!

Slowly, hesitantly, Genma’s arms circled the shaking youngest daughter of his old friend. “You’re very welcome,” he murmured.

/oOo\

Nabiki opened her eyes, gazing for a moment at the afternoon sunlight shining on her floor from her bedroom window. Finally, she glanced at the clock and sighed. _2:30, time to get up and get started,_ she thought to herself, sitting up and swinging her legs over to put her feet on the floor. For a moment she simply sat rubbing the sleep from her eyes, then stood up to stride over to the computer on which she and her sisters had watched the auction the previous afternoon.

It had been a long night for the middle Tendo, as she lay in bed and did something she couldn’t ever remember doing before — taking a long, hard look at the big picture. Before, she had always been focused with pinpoint intensity on simply keeping the family’s head above water financially, seeking out whatever means she could use to bring in every little extra kaneitsuho. Now, with ‘Ranko’ having assumed all the family’s debts and Genma starting up classes at the dojo again, their finances were secure for the first time she could remember and she could finally look beyond immediate need.

She didn’t like what she saw, at all.

Thinking over what had happened since the elder Kuno’s untimely death, it hadn’t taken her long to come to what was for her an inescapable conclusion: Kuno wasn’t the true enemy. Oh, she wasn’t letting him off the hook for what he’d done, and she was still going to do whatever it took to get Ranma out the trap he’d walked into with his eyes open. Still, in spite of everything Kuno had done and threatened to do, the _real_ enemy was the system that gave him the power to actually act on his delusions — the system that had allowed an obviously insane man to assume power.

The middle Tendo thought back to the list of powers in the Empire that had shown up at the auction to bid on ‘Ranko’. With a few exceptions (she still couldn’t figure out why a Shinto priest, or even a businesswoman like Meioh-san, had bid at all, much less as much as the last had), they’d been there to take advantage of the obvious injustice, not to rectify it. And that, she would neither forgive nor forget.

_I wonder how soon I should start distancing myself from the rest of the family?_ she wondered idly as she waited for her computer to boot up. _I’m not likely to end up dead in a ditch for moving against Kuno, but after that the odds start to climb considerably and I really don’t want Akane and Kasumi — or even Ranma and Genma — to be lying there next to me._

Then the monitor lit up with the symbol that meant the connection was secure and that the computer had checked for spyware and come up clean, and she leaned forward. _Let’s see, first I’m going to need a new organization, my old one won’t work for this at all — small-timers the lot of them, every one of them in it for the thrills or money or both. This is going to take people willing to risk their futures, if not their lives. Maybe — Hiroshi dropped by yesterday to offer his assistance, let’s find out how serious he was. He’d make an excellent leader and middleman if he’s willing...._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter titles comes from the song by Tim McGraw:
> 
> And we carry on  
>  When our lives come undone  
>  We carry on  
>  Cause there's promise in the morning sun  
>  We carry on  
>  As the dark surrenders to the dawn  
>  We were born to overcome  
>  We carry on
> 
> Beyond the picket fences and the oil wells  
>  The happy endings and the fairy tales  
>  Is the reality of shattered lives and broken dreams  
>  We carry on


	14. Calypso's Island

Ranma carefully didn’t move as she woke up, lying in the massive bed in Kuno’s master bedroom. After a few minutes, she slowly relaxed in relief — she was alone. Except for the sound of Usagi singing out in the sitting room (and doing very well, too, Ranma briefly wondered if her new servant enjoyed karaoke), Ranma couldn’t detect a soul around. Taking a deep breath (firmly ignoring the scent of sex still in the air), the busty redhead sat up and stretched, the sheets pooling around her waist.

Out in the sitting room, Usagi’s singing instantly broke off and a moment later she opened the door and stepped through, dressed in the same type of Western maid’s outfit as the previous day — and like the previous day, without her slave collar. “Oh, you’re finally awake!” the short-haired blonde enthused with a broad smile, walking toward the bed. “It’s late, you must have had quite a night. Let’s get you cleaned up and get you breakfast — well, more like an early lunch. But the cooks won’t mind, they’re always ...”

Nonplussed by the word-stream from the bundle of cheerful energy, Ranma allowed herself to be hustled toward the bathroom, not even embarrassed by her unclothed state until Usagi began stripping off her uniform.

As Usagi began scrubbing her back Ranma, sitting on the stool and watching her servant look her over in the full-length wall mirror, saw her frown slightly. “Ranko, you’re already almost clean — did you bathe already?”

“Uh, yeah, after Kuno-dono ... fell asleep,” the redhead admitted, even as she suppressed a wince at feeling the Barrier shiver slightly.

“So why didn’t you call me to help?” the blonde asked, attempting to look fierce and failing miserably. “That’s my job, you know.”

“Not in the middle of the night,” Ranma growled. “I’m not so helpless as that! And just how was I supposed to get your help, run down to your cubbyhole and shake you awake? Come ta think of it,” she added, stiffening at a sudden thought, “just how did you know I was awake just now?”

“Oh, when you sat up you broke a motion sensor beam that runs across the bed,” Usagi tossed off nonchalantly. “But that doesn’t activate until five in the morning — Tatewaki-sama sometimes likes an encore when he wakes up in the middle of the night.”

The blonde that Ranma was still watching in the mirror was blushing furiously, and the red-haired girl grinned. “And just how do you know that?” she asked. “Did his previous full-use slaves tell you?”

Usagi’s blush deepened even further. “Uh ... noooo ... a few nights after Tatewaki-sama bought me and Makoto, the alarm woke me up at two in the morning and I walked in on the two of them going at it.”

Ranma laughed. “I’ll bet _that_ was educational,” she teased, amazed at how _relaxed_ she’d become around her fellow slave. With any other girl Ranma had gotten to know he would have been looking for an escape route long before the conversation had gotten this far. _Though come ta think of it, before the elder Kuno died, with any other girl but Kasumi an’ Nabiki I’d either be hammered inta the ground or fightin’ a rival by now. And talkin’ like this with either a’ those two — not happenin’._

“ _Anyway_ ,” Usagi continued firmly, “after that he offered to set the motion sensor to self-activate at six o’clock. Since he became head of Clan Kuno, that’s been moved back to five — he has to get up earlier to take care of his new responsibilities. “So, how did last night go?” she asked hurriedly in a bid to change the subject. “Was Tatewaki-sama as good as Makoto said he is?”

Ranma froze as the memories of the previous night’s pleasures hammered into her, the Barrier shaking under the impact. Hastily, she closed her eyes. _Remember, training, it’s training, this is gonna do wonders for Akane!_ The storm slowly ebbed, the Barrier stilling and fading from her awareness, and she opened her eyes with a gasp of relief to see Usagi’s shocked, whitened face in the mirror.

“Ranko, what’s wrong? He didn’t do anything ... anything _wrong_ , did he? Makoto and the others never —”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Ranma hastened to assure her, “just ... just memories from before ... before I was bought.”

Usagi’s expression instantly turned sympathetic, and she reached around from behind to pull her unofficial mistress into a hug. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you think of that,” she whispered. “Don’t worry, Tatewaki-sama will help you get over those nasty memories, and if you ever need a shoulder to cry on or someone to talk to I’m here.”

Ranma had stiffened at the feel of Usagi’s bare breasts pushing against her back, but she forced herself to relax as she reached up to lay her hands on top of Usagi’s. “Thank, Usagi, that means a lot to me,” she whispered, eyes moist. Not even Kasumi had been so instantly loving — accepting, yes, but not caring.

“So anyway,” she continued in a determinedly lighter tone, “just how am I supposed to call you in the middle of the night? Not that I ever will.”

Usagi broke off the hug and shifted around to take care of what little scrubbing Ranma’s breasts, stomach and legs needed. “Oh, there’s a couple of summons buttons on the bedstead I forgot to show you yesterday, sorry.” Dropping back to kneel on the floor, she looked Ranma over. “It looks like that does it,” she said. “Let’s get you rinsed off, then do you want to soak or go get something to eat?” Ranma’s stomach growled at the mention of food, and Usagi laughed as Ranma blushed. “I think that answers that,” she said with a grin as she filled the rinse bucket.

“So, what is there ta do around here after we eat?” Ranma asked after the first rinse bucket’s water was poured over her.

“Well, normally there’s the schooling and self-defense training Tatewaki-sama insists on,” Usagi replied as she refilled the bucket. “And after that I have my cleaning and washing to take care of. For you ... well, there’s games on the house computer, plenty of books to read, and Makoto would do some more sparring with some of the Kuno retainers ...” Her voice trailed off.

“That’s _it_?” Ranma asked incredulously.

Usagi shrugged. “Hey, I’ve always had my chores and taking care of the master to keep me mostly busy. Until the last month, at least ... he hasn’t been here as much since becoming lord of Nerima, too busy. The games are pretty cool, though!”

Ranma shook her head as she stood up, the last of the water from the second rinse bucket sluicing down her body. “Well, let’s eat and get ta our busy schedule,” she said as Usagi grabbed a towel to dry her off with. “But you’re gonna be gettin’ some help with yer chores, and maybe we’ll see about teachin’ ya some _real_ martial arts.”

/oOo\

Kodachi glanced around her brother’s office as she stepped through the door. Though she carefully kept the usual sardonic expression she used for meetings with her older brother, she was actually impressed by the subtle beauty of the room — her brother either had previously unrevealed insight or had been wise enough to listen to someone that did. Either way, it indicated hidden depths she hadn’t suspected existed in the tradition-bound delusional idiot she’d thought she knew.

“I got your message requiring my presence when I got up this afternoon, big brother, and here I am,” she said as she sauntered toward the new lord’s desk.

“Yes, so you are,” Tatewaki replied as he watched her walk up and flop into one of the chairs in front of his desk, his face expressionless. For a time he simply gazed at her until it required an act of will on her part to keep from fidgeting.

Finally, the tall former would-be samurai sighed. “So, little sister, did you enjoy your month-long bacchanalia celebrating our sire’s early departure?”

“Oh, more than you can ever know!” Kodachi replied, smiling dreamily.

“No, actually I know all about it — well, most of it, there was one week when you succeeded in losing the family retainers,” Kuno instantly replied. “Just what depravities _were_ you occupied with during the third week?”

The martial arts gymnast shot upright. “You had our people _spying_ on me?” she asked incredulously.

To Kodachi’s shock, her brother snorted. “You are my sister and, all the Powers help us, my heir,” he responded. “ _Of course_ I had our retainers keep an eye on your disgraceful public assault on our family honor!” Apparently unaware of the way his sister’s hands were curling into fists as her face reddened in anger, he mused, “Still, considering the way that our late sire had publicly disregarded you, your response to his death was only fair — which was why I chose to allow it to continue until you returned home of your own accord. We _earned_ the dishonor you inflicted on our name.”

“However,” he continued, ignoring how she was now staring at him in stunned amazement, “while allowing you your celebration was only just, family honor also requires that I show some form of public displeasure at your excesses. So now consider yourself under house arrest until I say otherwise. When you leave this office our retainers will escort you home with instructions to see to it that you do not leave. I have already arranged for the necessary tutors to continue your education, and some of our retainers should be happy to spar with you.

“Also, I have at long last been successful in freeing at least one of my true loves from that foul excrescence Saotome Ranma and driving him from our lording. Ranko, the pigtailed girl, is now a member of our household. Our retainers have been instructed to protect her from your assaults with whatever force is necessary, so it would be wise of you to avoid her.”

 _So, a blackmailed sex toy is ‘a member of our household’_ , Kodachi thought as she jerked to her feet.

She whirled and stalked toward the door, but froze as her brother called to her departing back, “I did not give you leave to go! I have a final question.”

“Yes?” she managed to ask in a strangled voice after a long moment spent struggling for control.

“As I asked earlier, just how did you occupy yourself during the third week of your bacchanalia? As lord I need to know so as to be prepared for any negative consequences that might befall the Family.”

Kodachi turned back to face her new paterfamilias, smiling viciously. “Why, I spent the first two days in pit fights, testing my skills against the brutes that normally compete in them for the mob’s approval.”

Her smile broadened at Kuno’s slight frown of disapproval, and she continued, “And I spent the next five days while recovering from the bruising I took in those contests as a whore at a dockside brothel. Don’t worry, I practiced safe sex — insisted that my clients bathe first, as well. They were more than happy to cooperate for their fifteen minutes with one of the elite.”

Kuno stared at her, stunned speechless. Unable to help herself, she broke out laughing at his flabbergasted expression. Finally getting herself under control, she asked, “Why so shocked, big brother? After all, to Father I was nothing but a commodity, my only value what he could sell me for to advance his power and position. Why should I not act the part?”

She again turned toward the office door, only to freeze when Kuno-dono again spoke, voice strained. “Kodachi, wait!” She turned back around to face him, but for a time he simply stared at her, expression unreadable. Finally, when she started to fidget slightly under the weight of that gaze he sighed. “Sister, you have wasted years trying to exact revenge on a man that didn’t care if you lived or died after you made yourself useless to him. Do not waste the rest of your life attacking his memory. Use this period of house arrest to consider to what purpose you wish to dedicate your life, or even simply to test to see if it suits you, and so long as it is an honorable cause I will devote whatever Family resources are necessary to make it a reality.”

After a long moment staring at her brother, Kodachi finally nodded, face expressionless, then turned and left for her gilded cage.

/oOo\

**by Tman**   


Ryoga had gotten lost again, breaking through a barrier of bushes —

— and right into the headlights of an armored car speeding towards him.

Squinting against the glare, Ryoga could make out the kanji for ‘Kuno’ on the six-wheeled vehicle.

“So, you’re siccing your goons on me already, Kuno? Well, ain’t that just like you, you coward! Hiding behind other people to do your dirty work!” Ryoga roared at the oncoming vehicle, ignoring in that moment the fact that it was _he_ who was seeking a confrontation with Kuno’s minions. “ROARING LION BULLET!”

Six tons of armored car met a massive ruby-red blast of ki and went cartwheeling into the air, its turret snapping off, its wheels flying every which way, before it slammed back into the ground, ejecting its stunned and battered crew in the process.

“Humph!” Ryoga grunted and spat, before he walked back into the vegetation and promptly got lost again.

From where they had been standing in the road behind the stranger, where the Kuno security vehicle had caught them out in the open, the two members of the Hawaiian United Liberation Army stared in shock at their last moment reprieve.

“Who the hell was that?” one of the guerillas whispered as he looked at the shattered security vehicle, then at the break in the scrub where the mysterious being had vanished.

“Dunno, don’t care, as long he keeps doing that!” the quicker thinking freedom fighter declared as he pulled at his comrade to not waste the opportunity and disappear themselves before more Japanese forces showed up.

/oOo\

China: a warehouse had collapsed. Australia: a ranch slaughterhouse had been broken open, sending hundreds of head of cattle stampeding over the landscape. Korea: an executives’ club and lounge had been totaled, its expensive furnishings tossed asunder like a tornado had struck it, the staff sent fleeing hither and yon. Hawaii again, a pineapple cannery had pancaked when a center support beam had been taken out. Taiwan: a microchip factory had lost millions of shu worth of computer chip production when the clean rooms had been violently breached, the sensitive electronics contaminated and ruined by dust and debris. Sumatra: a massive oil storage tank sporting the Kuno family crest had had that symbol PUNCHED in, resulting in an equally massive spill of its flammable contents, endangering the entire tank farm, and necessitating a very cautious and expensive cleanup. Just about anywhere there was a Kuno property, there had come reports of disruptions in business. There had even been a report of a Kuno-flagged tanker sinking in the mid-Pacific after it had been holed by a ‘green explosion’.

Just about all of them had one thing in common: a single ragged-looking young man with a tiger-striped bandanna and an angry attitude(though there had been the rather garbled account from several traumatized pig-farmers at a Kuno-run farm of a small brown piglet leading an animal uprising that had leveled the facility). He’d appear, see the Kuno emblem, then apparently go berserk, before disappearing as mysteriously as he’d appeared.

/oOo\

At that moment, a little less than half a world away, Kuno himself was angry. this was the third night he’d put in, away from his pleasures with the fiery-haired goddess finally in his possession, dealing with the paperwork sent him from the various outposts of the Kuno empire. A recent rash of brush fires seemed to have struck his far-flung interests, and all apparently set by the same person. He thought he recognized the culprit ... that Hibiki miscreant! He’d have thought him an enemy of the vile Saotome, and had enlisted his aid in the past to the common purpose of opposing the vile demon-in-human form, but now he wondered if the mindless brute wasn’t an accomplice of his foe!

If it had been Nerima, his finances could have handled it. If it had been one or two incidents, his vast corporate reserves could have dealt with the damage easily enough, as they would with any natural disaster. But, as he had been so politely reminded recently, the reserves had been drawn down, the margin of financial security dangerously narrowed, to service the auction payments. Furthermore, those regions outside Nerima had never heard of Martial Artist Insurance, and criminally refused to recognize the Kuno claims to damage coverage!

And Hibiki was apparently not content with one or two incidents; he was a continuing disaster unfolding. Nobody knew where he might strike next!

Some of the affected properties, land and workers alike, would have to be sold, but that would do little to recoup losses. Government regulators would expect the properties to be cleaned up first, free employees compensated for their layoffs or relocations, paperwork processed, work shifted to other sites. The Kunos would lose profits from the lost properties, income they needed to both expand their operations and pay off their anticipated future expenses.

And again, Hibiki continued to prick the mighty Kuno clan, shedding a drop of its financial blood here, another drop there, a few more drops over there.

Kuno gritted his teeth. He’d already put what facilities he could on alert, directed that security be beefed up — another drain on the corporate coffers. He’d even directed the authorities and his own people to investigate the Hibiki family, and somehow try to hold them to account for their wayward family member’s criminal mischief.

His agents had come back empty-handed. The Hibiki properties had been vacant, and apparently so for many years. All that inhabited the grounds were a family of curiously well-behaved dogs. The property bills were still being paid, but apparently by mail or by wire, the payments being sent in from a constantly changing variety of locations.

The man and his kin seemed to be shadows, with only the most tenuous of legal and social existences. But Hibiki Ryoga seemed to be a shadow that was intent on bleeding the Kuno clan, and thus far the Shining Light that was Kuno was unable to dispel this particular shadow.

With a growl Kuno returned to listening to the phone in his hand; the security chief of a Sumatran petroleum facility adjacent to the one Hibiki had sabotaged, one that had been thus far undamaged. Reports had come in that the rogue had been spotted on at least two occasions over a period of some weeks wandering near it, getting closer with each report. The manager had called for assistance, certain the refinery was to be the next target, but he was one of several plant and facility executives all calling for more help, more funding, more, more ...

Kuno finally tired of listening to the whining, demanding, nearly pleading tone in the older man’s voice. Was there no more nobility, no more respect, no more responsibility left in Japan that it all fell on _his_ shoulders to carry every half-wit?

“Then _double_ the security, if you’re so concerned!”

“We can’t immediately do that, sir!”

“And why can’t you?” Kuno’s voice took on a dangerous edge.

“Because we do not have the funds to cover the increased security, sir!” the security man finally bit out, unmindful of whatever punishment he might get for his candor.

“Not enough funds? We are the Kunos! We control a plurality of the Imperial economy! We are not beggars! And your operations have been more than generously funded!”

“Except, sir, that our budget for the coming period was slashed to cover ‘other expenses’! I’ve spoken to Accounting already! They told me —”

“Then you’ll divert those expenses from other places! When times are lean, you adapt! Find your funds in cutting your nonessentials, and bother me not with your own inadequacies! Make it so!”

Kuno snapped the phone shut, cutting off the man in mid-reply.

Honestly! Truly the kami were testing his charity and good nature!

No, t’was more like demons from Hell trying to dampen his triumph over the fiend Saotome! Yes, that had to be it! No sooner had he dispatched one devil, than another was sent to keep him from his good works, his noble calling, and his loves!

The phone buzzed again. He took one look at the caller ID; an urgent message from another far-flung corner of his business empire. He snapped up the phone and listened for a moment —

Kuno purpled in outrage as he heard the news.

“HIBIKI! DAMN YOU!”

/oOo\

Across town from the Kuno administrative offices, in the halls of Kuno Manor, Usagi stopped in her delivery of dinner to Ranko, and shivered. Somehow, in recent days, she’d acquired a knack for knowing when their master wasn’t coming home, and that he’d be unhappy, and this was definitely one of those days.

She hurried off to tell Ranko that Tatewaki-dono would not be joining her for dinner.

Again.

/oOo\

In another office across Edo, an emerald-haired woman looked at a newsfeed, got up and went over to a map on her office wall, picked up a red pushpin, and plugged it into the map.

There were several dozen red pushpins dotting the world-map.

Setsuna smiled as she contemplated it. “You’re a walking disaster, a living economic downturn, young Hibiki Ryoga. You make me proud.”

/oOo\

It was Hidyehyo-Five, one of the largest offshore oil platforms of Kuno Corporation (Petroleum Division), a man-made mountain peak of metal and reinforced concrete rising out of the ocean waters, drilling deep into the dark depths to bring up the lifeblood of the Empire’s economic machinery. Its crew were among the best in the division, freemen all, well-paid and generously compensated by the company. A successful season working the offshore fields on the Hidyehyo-Five could make crew members modestly wealthy, rich enough even to buy slaves of their own. None drilled better, faster, deeper, nor brought up more for the glory of Kuno Corporation, and the proud oilmen of the Hidyehyo-Five knew it.

The clangor of pipes being lifted and fitted, the whine of the drills, and the pounding pumping of drilling mud filled the air as the drilling floor crew plied their trade, plumbing the depths for black gold.

With all the people milling about, concentrating on their various tasks, nobody paid any attention to the solitary figure wandering along one of the catwalks above.

The wandering figure with the tiger-striped bandanna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title comes from the song by Robin Laing. Don't read too much into it, I suspect the only thing Odysseus liked about his time on the island was the nights in Calypsos' bed, but the "golden cage" aspect is there:
> 
> I remember the time of my arrival, tumbling out of the storm.  
> I was thinking only of survival, and you were so tender and warm.  
> Those days were so contented. I was tantalized and tempted.  
> Now I’m only trapped in your embrace, and the wonder and the magic of the place  
> is passed and gone.  
> And I wish I was going home, oh, I wish I was going home.  
> I’ve been gone so long, sometimes it feels like it’s been so long.
> 
> Field fires burning in the distance darken the setting sun.  
> I keep running into some resistance, this journey never gets done.  
> All the miles, all the oceans, all the feelings and emotions ...  
> No point in making plans tonight. No turning to the left or to the right,  
> no turning back.  
> And I wish I was going home, oh, I wish I was going home.  
> I’ve been gone so long, sometimes it feels like it’s been so long.
> 
> All around me are cool, shaded meadows, flowers wild and free.  
> But the morning sun tricks me with its shadows, and the mists roll in from the sea.  
> How the spirit roams and ranges—this horizon never changes.  
> And the spray seems to sparkle in the air. I find comfort almost everywhere  
> but I’m not free.  
> And I wish I was going home, oh, I wish I was going home.  
> I’ve been gone so long, sometimes it feels like it’s been so long.
> 
> This land reminds me of another, my faraway island home.  
> And I remember a baby and his mother—by now, the boy will have grown.  
> All the years that stretch behind us ... times of vision, times of blindness.  
> And I wonder if she ever things of me. And I wonder what pictures she can see  
> when she dreams.  
> And I wish I was going home, oh, I wish I was going home.  
> I’ve been gone so long, sometimes it feels like it’s been so long.


	15. Two Feet High and Rising

“I was already asleep by the time Tatewaki-dono got home, last night,” Usagi said from where she was stretching in preparation for the morning workout in Kuno-dono’s private dojo. “What time did he get in, Ranko?”

“Well after midnight,” Ranko replied as she made sure the headband she now wore to keep her hair out of her face (no longer in its habitual pigtail) was securely in place. She added with a slight smirk, “And he slept in late enough that we couldn’t have any morning ‘fun’ without having you walk in to help us get out of bed.”

Off to the side, Kodachi winced slightly at the edge to the redhead’s voice and a blushing Usagi shot the Kuno girl a suspicious glance even as she suppressed a wince of her own — since her new mistress’s panic attack her first morning on the estate, the Juuban slave had carefully avoided mentioning anything remotely concerned with sex. After a moment, her eyes slid to the ninja standing against the wall of the dojo. Thanks to the full-body clothing, mask hood and mask across her lower face, she couldn’t tell much about that ninja other than that she was young and very female. But having watched Ranko and Kodachi spar several times since the younger Kuno sibling had cautiously approached Ranko and asked to join their daily training sessions, the young slave had little faith that the ninja could stop Kodachi if she attacked her long-time nemesis for real. _Yeah, like_ you _could do anything, either,_ she thought to herself with a mental shrug. _But Ranko thinks she can deal with her if she has to, and she should know — certainly better than you!_

/\

Ranma and Kodachi broke apart, both panting and the Kuno girl drenched in sweat. The two grinned broadly at each other. “Close, but no go,” Ranko said smugly.

Kodachi shrugged. “Perhaps, but my style is weapons-based — if I’d had my tools, you’d be wrapped up and helpless before me!”

“Yeah, like that ever worked fer ya before,” Ranma rebutted with a smirk.

Kodachi chuckled and glanced around. Ranma’s body slave was gone, done with her training and returned to her cleaning duties while waiting for Ranma and Kodachi to finish their sparring before helping her mistress bathe. _And why Ranma is training that peasant is beyond me,_ the raven-haired aristocrat thought. _She’s enthusiastic enough and certainly tries hard, I’ll give her that, but she’s hopelessly inept — no talent for the Art at all._

But the important thing was that the bubbly teenager wasn’t there at the moment, and Kodachi’s keeper was out of earshot if she kept her voice down.

The two girls bowed to each other. “See ya tomorrow,” Ranma said, motioning the other girl toward the exit.

“Ranma, a question,” Kodachi said quietly.

The redhead stilled, gazing at her long-time irritant, an unreadable expression on her face. “What?” she asked just as quietly.

“You have what you were after — the Tendos are freed from their debt, and only the threat to your love remains. However skilled my brother is reputed to be among the servants in the pleasures of the flesh, however effective your Adjustment might be, you can’t be happy to be sharing his bed. So why is he still alive?”

“Ya really don’t get it, do ya? It’s simple — I made a deal, on my honor, ta be a good full use slave so long as he left Akane alone. Until yer brother’s delusions make him break that deal, here I’ll stay.”

“And is your honor worth ... this?” Kodachi demanded incredulously, her wave encompassing both Ranma’s female form and the mansion around them.

“Yes, Kodachi, it is — honor is what allows us to work together, in anything larger than families; allows us ta trust others — maybe trust them ta try ta kill us, but trust them. But for that trust ta exist, ya gotta play by the rules even when it hurts.” Kodachi stared uncomprehendingly at the other girl, and Ranma sighed. “Look, Kodachi, if yer life was in danger and both Sanzenin an’ me swore we’d do whatever it took ta keep ya alive, which of us would ya trust?”

“Why, you of course,” Kodachi instantly responded.

“Why? Not because of how much I like ya, that’s for sure. And which of us do ya respect the most? Do ya want others ta be able to treat you the same way? Respect you the same way? Think about it.”

Again, Ranma motioned the other girl toward the doorway. As this time a thoughtful Kodachi obeyed, followed by her ninja babysitter, she was suddenly very conscious of the fact that, in all the time they’d sparred together over the past four days, the redhead behind her had never voluntarily turned her back on her.

/oOo\

The Emperor examined his Shogun for a time as he allowed the silence to linger after the Shogun finished his report. The middle-aged man kneeling before him was softer than he’d been in his younger days, but still firmly muscled — apparently, he at least kept his physical faculties in good shape, supple and strong. _If only I could say that same about his mental faculties!_ the Emperor thought despairingly behind his expressionless mask. Finally, he asked calmly, “And why has it taken over a week for you to react to this situation?”

“At first, neither I nor my staff actually believed there _was_ a problem,” the Shogun replied. “The attacks were too widespread and random to be the acts of a single organization, and we simply couldn’t believe that a single man could move about the world so swiftly.”

“You did not study the files on Nerima?”

“Yes, I did. But I simply didn’t believe them — magic just doesn’t _work_ that way! It is a matter of ritual and knowledge, not ... not the random chaos that lording is reputed to be cursed with.”

The Emperor chuckled. “Apparently, magic _is_ just that — or at least, that as well. So, a world-class teleporter is a bad enemy, even if that teleportation is poorly controlled at best. How do you plan to respond to the request for aid from the Kuno Family’s steward?”

“I plan to grant that request, of course,” the Shogun instantly responded. “The Kuno Family supplies a large portion of the necessary fuel and equipment for the military, even if other families and clans specialize in most of the arms. If the Kuno Family collapses, the damage to our defenses will be serious.”

“True,” the Emperor agreed, nodding, then added, “but only if in that fall the infrastructure for producing, transporting and storing that fuel and equipment is lost. I would advise limiting the military’s involvement to protecting only those ships, manufactories, oil platforms and refineries that it depends on. After all, our military capability will not be affected if the Kunos lose a sugar plantation in Hawaii or a sheep ranch in Australia.

“And if the Kuno Family does collapse, the infrastructure will still be in place, with a new owner taking charge soon enough. So long as we have adequate stores to tide us over, the military will be fine, and there will be no precedent for future Shoguns to use to play favorites in the Clans’ bickerings. We _do_ have adequate stores?”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” the Shogun agreed without hesitation, even as he frowned thoughtfully.

“Very well,” the Emperor said with a nod, suppressing a sigh and reflecting once again that his ostensible subordinate was a prime example of a man promoted above his level of competence. If only the skill in political infighting that had allowed him to rise to the top had been matched by a commensurate talent for governance.... “So, what do you have to report on the situation in Daerah Selatan?”

/oOo\

From where he lay on the roof of the building alongside the park across from the slave center that had seen a near-riot over a week ago, Hiroshi looked out over the crowd gathered there, grim satisfaction filling him. It had been a busy, nerve-wracking week since Nabiki had contacted him and thrown all his plans for the future out the window, one quiet conversation after another with both his new superior and likeminded individuals that he had known as well as others she’d suggested. But the fruits of his labors were spread out in the park. The usual Christian protesters were there, brought out by another full use slave being offered for sale. But they were a minority once again, outnumbered by new protesters with signs reading ‘Not While Ranko Suffers’ and ‘Full Use Is Rape’, among others.

Hiroshi’s eyes drifted to the few security guards across the street in front of the slave center’s front entrance. They were too far away for him to see details, but their body language screamed their fear, and he smirked. _Thought after Ranma got sold off everything would go back to normal, didn’t you? Not this time!_

A police van turned the corner onto the street between the park and the slave center, and half a dozen police in riot gear piled out of the back to take up positions in front of the security guards, and Hiroshi chuckled as those guards went limp with relief. _No need to worry, we aren’t here for you — this time._

Then the huge screen lit up and the first slave being offered for sale appeared, and he settled back, glancing behind him to make sure that the other eight teenagers sharing the roof with him were keeping back out of sight from the street and park. It was going to be awhile before the full use slave was offered.

/\

A roar went up from the crowd below, and Hiroshi jerked slightly at the sudden blast of sound, finding it hard to believe that he’d actually dozed off. _Has the last week actually been_ that _hectic?_ he thought as he levered himself up and glanced over the roof edge. Yes, another poor soul was having her naked body displayed to the world, for the gamblers and voyeurs — including a large number of teenage boys ( _you among them, up to a few weeks ago,_ a voice whispered in the back of his mind).

Hiroshi managed to keep the glance impersonal, only noting that the beauty on display was pretty, but no match for Ranma in all her perky glory. And did he catch a hint of desperation? Or was he just transferring what it must have been like for Ranma to someone that didn’t actually care?

He mentally shrugged, even as he rolled away from the roof’s edge, rose to a crouch, and scurried back to join the other boys. ““Party time, if you hadn’t guessed,” he said with a grin. “Masks and sunglasses on, hoods up, and get out the slings!” Matching actions to words, he quickly pulled his mask from around his neck up across his lower face with gloved hands, took his own sunglasses from his jacket pocket and slipped them on, then reached back to pull up his hood and cinch it tight. Glancing around, he nodded as the last of his compatriots slipped on her sunglasses, suppressing a wince. He really wished Akane wasn’t with them, but ... Yet again, he shrugged off the thought. If anyone had a right to be here it was Akane — and what was she supposed to do, sit around and wait for Ranma to come back to her? However many years that might take if it happened at all.

Pulling his sling out of his back pocket, he picked up one of the large lead balls from the pile and placed it in the oversized pouch, glanced to both sides to make sure he had enough room, and started whirling the loaded sling over his head. After a few moments he heard shouts from both ends of the line indicating everyone to each side of him was ready. “Go!” he shouted, charging forward, sling whirling. Reaching the edge of the roof, he released. Without bothering to watch the throw, he whirled and dashed for the opposite edge of the roof, grinning viciously at the shattering sound of nine large lead balls smashing into the huge — and _very_ expensive — screen.

He paused to wait until the other eight teenagers were dashing down the fire escape to the alley floor before following them. they piled into the back of the idling van waiting for them, and he hit a button by the back door as he slammed it closed. At that signal, the van slowly started forward to pull into the light traffic passing by and sedately drove away.

/oOo\

Ryoga finished laying out his bedroll and stood up, gazing out across the desert landscape at the brilliant sunset. In the past week; as he had traveled the globe blowing up and messing with various Kuno estates, ranches, plantations, manufactories, etc.; he had concluded that the definitely-not-crazy woman (or was that ‘crazy like a fox’?) was right — never knowing just where he was going to end up _did_ add to the ‘flavor’ of the beauty around him.

“Beautiful,” came a familiar female voice from behind him. “You know, I think keeping track of you is proving to be one of the unexpected bonuses from this mess.”

Whirling, he once again found the same beautiful emerald-haired woman from before standing behind him, gazing at the sunset with a soft smile on her face. She still had the same staff straight out of a schoolgirl’s action-romance, and he carefully ignored the fact that she was dressed the same way as well.

After a few minutes she sighed and looked around at the range of rocky desert hills surrounding them. “Tell me, why are you camped away from the water basin?” she asked curiously.

“That water might be the only source for tens of miles in all directions,” he replied. “I camp out here to make room for the desert wildlife, so they can get the water they need.”

The woman’s eyebrow rose. “Interesting. Did you think of that yourself?”

Ryoga blushed, remembering a scathing dressing down he’d received from an oldtimer, most likely somewhere in these very hills. “Not exactly,” he mumbled.

She laughed softly. After a moment, she added, “It isn’t the only source of water around, at the moment.” Turning she pointed to the east where the hill dropped off into a cliff. “Down there is another smaller basin, well known to the people living around here. The US cavalry used it when they were pursuing the Inde renegades — Apache to outsiders — trying to drive them onto reservations or into the Spanish Empire. But that basin doesn’t last through the summer, it’s too small. This one does — and only the Inde know about it.” For a moment, her face went sad. “Knew about it, rather. You’re the first human to come here in over a century. I suppose all the Inde that knew about it were either killed or never bothered to tell their children of it once the last of the Inde resistance was crushed by the only joint American/Spanish military operation in history.”

For a few minutes the two stood side by side, gazing out across the harsh wasteland lit up by the setting sun. Finally, she glanced over and chuckled harshly at Ryoga’s somber expression. “Don’t feel too sorry for the Apache, Ryoga. They were hell on their neighbors; raiding out of the mountains to murder, loot and rape, taking captives back to their strongholds to keep as slaves or sell to the Spanish to the south or the Navajo to the north. Though I doubt it would have provided much comfort to the women and children killed when the Spanish and American cavalry overran their last refuges if they were told that their husbands and fathers, at least, were getting exactly what they deserved. And the Indians are finally coming out of their generations of self-pity and becoming a valued part of the larger American society, especially the military.”

Ryoga turned to face the scantily-clad woman. “Okay, why are you here?”

She grinned impishly. “Oh, nothing much, just some news I think you ought to hear — the Empire is coming to the Kuno Family’s defense.”

Ryoga purpled with rage, hands clenching into fists. “What! The Shogun and Emperor are actually siding with that ... that ... !”

“Easy, Ryoga, easy,” the woman cautioned, holding up a hand. “It isn’t as bad as it sounds. The military purchases a lot of its supplies from the Kunos and will only be protecting those ships and facilities that provide those supplies, the rest will still be left to Kuno to look after. You’ll simply need to be more careful from now on, making sure that the people resisting you are dressed in the Kuno livery rather than military uniforms. As long as you do that, you’ll simply be an enemy of the Kuno Family rather than of the Empire.”

Slowly, Ryoga relaxed, his fists unclenching. Finally, he nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Good!” the woman said brightly, handing him a file she’d apparently pulled out of thin air (the practically skin-tight top and miniskirt that he was still carefully ignoring certainly didn’t have anywhere she might have stored it). “These are photos of the various uniforms of the Imperial military, in case you aren’t familiar with them all.

“Oh, and you’ll want to put your tent up, it’s going to rain tonight.”

And with that, she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title comes from the song, "Five Feet High and Rising," by Johnny Cash.


	16. When the Saints

Nabiki finished reading Hiroshi’s report of the strike against the slave center, smiling viciously. _And so it starts,_ she thought as she saved Hiroshi’s email to her most secure storage and carefully erased all evidence of it from her normal secured operating system. _I wonder how many of those massive screens they’ll lose before they give up? Though the next one won’t be as easy, they’ll have guards on the rooftops. Maybe if the Amazons and Konatsu help by knocking the guards unconscious?_

The middle Tendo started at a sudden knock on her bedroom door, followed by her older sister’s voice. “Nabiki, you have visitors, the Amazons are here.”

“Finally!” Nabiki murmured as she rose to her feet and hurried over to unlock and open the door, revealing Kasumi, with Ku Lon, Xian Pu and Mu Tse standing behind her. “Come in,” she invited, stepping back and glancing around as she waved her visitors in. “Big sis, I’m short a seat, could you get another chair?” Kasumi nodded with her usually serene smile and started down the hall, only to pause and turn back around when Nabiki spoke again, “Kasumi, where’s Akane at the moment?”

“I believe she is in the dojo, helping Uncle Genma and Ukyo teach a beginner’s class,” Kasumi responded.

Nabiki relaxed slightly with relief. “Good. If you see her, could you not mention the Amazons are here? From a few comments she’s made, I don’t think she’s forgiven them yet for making Ranma’s ... decision ... possible.”

Kasumi nodded sober agreement. “I believe you are right, I’ll keep silent — for the peace of the house if nothing else,” she replied, then turned again to fetch her own chair from her room. Nabiki watched her leave, a slight frown of worry on her face — Kasumi still managed to put up her usual serene front, but her cleaning had gotten somewhat obsessive, and since Auntie Nodoka had disappeared so mysteriously, there hadn’t anyone to take away her excuse. As Kasumi vanished through her bedroom door, Nabiki shrugged and turned back to her guests. _I guess we all deal in our own way._

A few minutes later, Ku Lon was sitting on the seat Kasumi had brought before departing with the announcement that lunch would be ready within the half-hour, and that she’d bring some up then. Xian Pu and Mu Tse were sitting next to each other on Nabiki’s bed, and Nabiki was the final point in the triangle, sitting backwards on her own chair in front of her computer with her arms resting on the chair’s back.

“I’m a bit surprised it’s taken you this long to come back,” she said noncommittally, eyebrow quirking.

Ku Lon shrugged. “After the events of a week and a bit ago, I felt that we had worn out our welcome at the Tendo Household more than a little, and Kuno wouldn’t move against Akane for some time, anyway,” she replied easily.

Nabiki chuckled lightly. “ ‘Worn out our welcome’,” she repeated. “I suppose you could say that. I’d suggest avoiding Akane if you can. She’s feeling a little ... not better, more alive, I guess ... but she still tenses up at any mention of any of you. There’s not much chance she could hurt any of you, except maybe Mousse, but I wouldn’t want her hurt — especially if she’s pregnant, as she hopes.”

Ku Lon’s eyes widened at that; and Xian Pu winced as Mu Tse smirked. “I must admit to being surprised,” Ku Lon admitted. “I wouldn’t have thought Ranma would wish to leave behind a child when he might not return — especially since he and Akane aren’t married.”

“Actually, from a few hints Akane’s dropped I think it was her idea,” Nabiki said.

Ku Lon’s eyebrows climbed higher. “Still, now that she’s had a chance to strike back against Kuno, with I’m sure more such on the way, she should be more at peace with this mess,” she mused, then smiled wryly at Nabiki’s careful lack of reaction to her words.

After a moment, Nabiki chuckled and shrugged. “I suppose there’s no point in pretending I wasn’t behind yesterday’s little hooliganism — especially since I’m going to need your help, next time.” She quickly explained her reasoning, and Ku Lon nodded thoughtfully as the other two teenagers grinned eagerly.

“Why?” the Elder finally asked.

Nabiki shrugged. “Partly, to give Akane a way to feel like she’s doing something to help. Partly, I need to strike back, myself,” she admitted, then continued, voice rising, “But mostly, to shorten Ranma’s time in Kuno’s bed. The more I can keep that nutcase feeling paranoid and seeing ‘the foul sorcerer’s influence’ abroad in his lording, the sooner he’s likely to move against Akane and free Ranma to put him down like the mad dog he is!”

She broke off, shocked at the way her calm, even tone had risen to a shout. Glancing out of the corner of her eye, Nabiki hid a wince at the shocked expressions on Xian Pu’s and Mu Tse’s faces. _So much for ‘The Ice Queen’,_ she thought wryly, even as she turned her attention back to Ku Lon.

Surprisingly, there was a smile on the Elder’s face. “So, there’s some passion underneath that cold exterior after all, that is good,” the ancient Amazon murmured. Continuing in a louder voice, she said, “Of course, we will help — anything that brings this to an end more quickly. So, what word is there of Ranma? How is he dealing with his enslavement?”

Nabiki hesitated, sighed, and admitted, “I don’t know. So far I haven’t been able to get an in with any of the Kuno household that can give me anything but rumors.”

The smile vanished from Ku Lon’s face. “That is _not_ good. Do you think that will change in the future, or is this simply the way things are with the Kuno servants?”

Nabiki shrugged. “I hope it will change, but I’m not counting on it. If all else fails, I’ll use Konatsu — I doubt the Kunos have any ninjas to match him for sneakiness, and all we _really_ need is some way to get word to Ranma when ‘Kuno comes after Akane, and get Shampoo’s cat form to him. Still, it’s early days yet, and I’ll keep looking for an in.”

Ku Lon nodded thoughtfully. “True. So it is still mostly a waiting game on our part. Now, what is the Kuonji girl doing here helping the Panda teach? We knew Ucchan’s had been abandoned, but I hadn’t realized she’d come here.”

“That’s right, you wouldn’t have heard. She’s no longer a Kuonji, Uncle Genma has adopted her.” Ku Lon’s eyebrows quirked as the teenage Amazons’ mouths dropped open, and Nabiki gave her usual I-know-something-you-don’t grin. She was just about to explain, when they the sound of footsteps coming down the hall.

“That’s Kasumi,” Nabiki murmured, rising and walking toward the door. “She wouldn’t interrupt us unless it was important.” Pausing for just a moment, the middle Tendo opened the door to reveal a startled Kasumi, hand upraised to knock. “What’s up, big sis?” she asked, grinning slightly.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but you have another visitor,” Kasumi said, giving her younger sister a worried look. “He needs to speak to you about Ranma and a disturbance yesterday.”

Nabiki froze, mind racing. _Easy, girl, it can’t be law enforcement — if they had evidence you were behind the destruction of the slave center screen, a couple of cops would be standing here instead of Kasumi; and if they thought you were behind it but didn’t have evidence, they wouldn’t just send someone around to interview you. And it can’t be a Kuno retainer, we didn’t threaten Kuno — at least, not directly. Besides, they’d be more likely to drop by in the middle of the night. So, who ... ?_

Forcing herself to relax, Nabiki said, “Does he have a name?”

Kasumi blushed slightly. “Oh, my, I’m sorry. It’s Juan de Oro. He’s a foreign gentleman of some sort.”

Nabiki felt her eyebrows trying to rise, and shrugged nonchalantly. “Sure, I’ll be right down in a few minutes, thanks.”

Kasumi nodded and turned toward the stairs.

Nabiki closed the door and turned back to her guests. “Okay, I have no idea who this is or what he wants, but from the timing it’s safe to assume he knows you’re here and involved somehow. Still, let’s keep you out of this if we can. Shampoo, Mousse, can you be backup, slip out and around by the family room entrance in case he tries anything?”

The two teens looked over at their Elder, and Ku Lon nodded. “What you say makes sense. I will go with them, and we shall see what we hear.”

/oOo\

Nabiki sipped from her tea cup as she continued to gaze at the enigma kneeling across the table from her. _His name is pure Spanish, his Japanese is flawless, but his skin is rather pale. And while he certainly has much of the Dons in his features, there’s also a touch that reminds me of the Siberians I’ve seen...._

Deciding that the usual polite opening conversation had gone on long enough, she set down the tea cup. “You’re American, aren’t you?” she asked bluntly.

De Oro smiled. “Straight to the point, I see. Yes, I am.”

“And how many generations back is your Indian ancestor?”

The stranger’s eyebrows rose. “Good eyes — only one generation, my mother is an Apache. But the Apache have never taken racial purity very seriously, and love happens, and lust even more so — she has a great deal of Caucasian blood in her.”

“And your name?”

“You _are_ a blunt one, aren’t you? My father was an escapee from the Slave Power to the south, and chose it for himself.”

“No offence, but what does an American care about what happens to my sister’s fiancé, or about a minor disturbance even for an Edo district?”

“Ah, to business, then. Actually, I’m here to talk to Saotome Ukyo. Before Ranma walked into hell, he sent word that then Kuonji-san wished to work to oppose trafficking in human beings. I am here to see if she still wishes to serve the cause. As well, yesterday’s events suggest that you may wish to, as well.”

Nabiki stared for a moment, then her eyes widened in surprised realization. “You’re with the Underground Railroad!” With a chuckle, she added, “I didn’t know Ranma was a member, but I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“I’m afraid you’re wrong on both points,” de Oro disagreed. “Ranma isn’t a member, though he has helped out on occasion. And my own organization is ... very different.”

“Another organization? But you aren’t from the Empire, what other international anti-slavery organization is there?” Nabiki asked.

“The Children of Israel,” de Oro responded, then chuckled at Nabiki’s blank look. “I know, you’ve never heard of us — and with good reason, governments prefer not to admit that there’s an actual armed resistance to slavery abroad in the world, not even the United States.”

“Armed resistance!” Nabiki whispered in stunned amazement.

“Yes. As I said, we are very different from the pacifists running the Underground Railroad. Don’t misunderstand me, I have nothing but respect for those crusaders,” de Oro hastily added. “They are the open hand of the Suffering Servant, extending His love and mercy to the world’s most desperate and afflicted. They are some of the most dedicated and visionary people I know.

“But _my_ God is very different, or rather a different aspect. He is the Lord of Hosts, the Lion of Judah, the Judge of Nations — and where the Underground Railroad is His mercy to the oppressed, _we_ are the arm of the Lord lifted against their oppressors.”

Shaken in spite of herself, Nabiki whispered in English, “I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel.” De Oro’s statement hadn’t had the least hint of histrionics or hyperbole, simply calm certitude overlying an inflexible will. In the back of her mind, Nabiki was inscribing, and highlighting, and underlining a new primary rule — to _never_ do anything to make this man her enemy.

“As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal,” de Oro continued in the same language, then switched back to Japanese. “Yes, the Battle Hymn of the Republic is my favorite hymn. And one you understand in your gut as well, isn’t it — now?”

“Oh, yes, certainly better than Ranma does,” Nabiki agreed. “Or did, he might understand better now—or maybe not, he always was too forgiving.”

“But not you,” de Oro stated.

“Not me,” Nabiki agreed.

“So, how would you like to become the founding leader of the Children of Israel on the Japanese islands?” de Oro asked, smiling faintly.

“The founding leader? That isn’t you?” Nabiki responded, surprised.

“No, not me. You might have noticed that the world is a _very_ target-rich environment for anti-slavery crusaders,” de Oro said, and Nabiki barked a bitter laugh. “Well, the Children can’t be everywhere, so we limit our support to places where the local people are willing to carry on the fight for themselves — if the enslaved aren’t willing to fight for their own freedom, we can’t help them and won’t waste resources trying. In the Empire, that mainly means Daerah Selatan, with some pockets in China. But on the home islands themselves, nothing — until now, I hope.”

“And what do I get out of joining this armed revolution, other than making myself a target?” Nabiki asked.

De Oro shrugged. “Some financial support; intelligence; trainers; additional training for your best outside of the Empire’s reach; occasionally additional trained fighters for particularly important targets; perhaps safe haven for those of your people that have their cover blown, if they can reach it.”

“Would I have to convert to Christianity?” Nabiki questioned, an ironic smile on her face. With the name of the organization, it seemed a fair question.

“In earlier generations that would have been the case,” de Oro admitted with a grimace, “but not now. We won’t mind if you don’t believe in God, so long as you believe in His justice.”

For a time Nabiki simply sat in contemplative silence, then finally shook her head. “Nooo,” she slowly said, reluctance clear in her voice. “Even if I was willing to make that kind of commitment this suddenly, I can’t. When I switched from larceny and petty graft to active opposition to Kuno, I had to start rebuilding my own organization from the ground up. It’s still early days and so rather shaky, and I suspect very few of them have truly considered the implications of what we are doing — they aren’t opposed to slavery in general, so much as one particular enslavement in particular. Once this is over, there will be a few that I can use as a foundation for a new, more general — crusade, did you say? — but that’s for later days. Besides,” she added, “this is too close to my family, I haven’t had the opportunity to really make sure it couldn’t spill over on them.”

De Oro nodded acceptance. “I can understand that,” he agreed. “So why don’t you consider my offer while this act plays itself out? I’ll look you up afterwards.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Nabiki agreed, rising to her feet. “Now, since I’m not jumping right in, why don’t I take you to Ukyo and leave you two to your own private talk.”

“Thank you,” de Oro said, rising to his feet as well. “Oh, and my offer is open as well to the three Chinese Amazons that I’m sure have been listening raptly to every word.”

/\

A few minutes later, Nabiki stepped back into the family room to find the three Amazons kneeling at the table, Mu Tse pouring fresh tea all around. “Well, _that_ was an interesting conversation,” she said, kneeling and accepting a fresh tea cup of her own. “So, what did you think?”

“That was a very ... impressive ... young man,” Ku Lon mused. “Not a fighter, but not someone I’d want to get in the way of, when he’s set his mind on a goal. And you are going to accept his offer, aren’t you?”

Nabiki shrugged. “I don’t know, yet. It certainly sounds good, but I have other concerns right now.”

“Of course,” Ku Lon blandly agreed, suppressing a snort of laughter. Xian Pu wasn’t as successful, and her great-grandmother shot her a quelling look even as she took a sip of Kasumi’s truly excellent tea, then looked back thoughtfully at the middle Tendo. _And he isn’t the only one becoming truly pure,_ she thought. _Unfortunate, that, Nabiki would have been a true asset to the Village once she’d broadened her horizons beyond looking after her family. If only I’d known how bad off the Tendos truly were...._

Once again refusing to cry over spilt milk, the Elder finished her tea and placed her tea cup back on its saucer. “And now, why don’t we return to your room and consider what options we have for helping Ranma.”

/oOo\

Kuno leaned back in his chair and sighed as he rubbed at tired eyes — this mountain of paperwork wasn’t what he’d expected when he’d so unexpectedly found himself lord and family head all at once, and even on first encounter he had expected it to ease off quickly once the transition to himself as lord was done. More fool, he. _Though I don’t know why I didn’t expect something like this to be neverending_ , he thought with a wry chuckle. _After all, I know the truth that lies behind the stories of the great samurai of legend — the hours of practice, the sweat, pain and injuries, the sheer strength of will needed to maintain a calm demeanor when impugned by one’s inferiors, and the way that victory on one day fails to make the days to come any easier. Why should the stories of the great lords of legend be any different — the sheer drudgery and minutia that lie behind the justice and leadership that demands respect and lives on in the memories of generations to come?_

With another sigh, Kuno straightened in his chair. _And now you are dwelling on irrelevancies to avoid thinking of the illegal slave trade permeating your lording. It is time and past time to stop dreaming of past glories and deal with the present. Who knows?_ he added as he again read over the summary of the report from the independent investigators his steward had hired, _Rise to meet your hour, and future generations will remember you as you do the heroic lords of old._

He finished the summary for a third time, and leaned back again. _So, in two weeks time the various otokodate involved in slave smuggling will have gathered as many of their victims here as they are likely to have at one time. Yes,_ that _will be the time to strike — and not just at the smugglers, but at all of those pits of depravity offering to slake the most odious of men’s bestial lusts. However, Morimasa’s concerns of spies among Nerima’s law enforcement are unfortunately well-founded. And so ..._

Kuno leaned over and brought up his contact list on his monitor, and selected Takeuchi Kazuki, the head of the Kuno Family security forces (and _de facto_ general of the Family’s private army). Within seconds, the screen cleared and Kazuki’s image bowed his head respectfully. “My lord, how may I serve you today?” he asked.

“Takeuchi-kun, come to my office as soon as practicable,” Kuno ordered. “We have an operation to discuss.”

Leaning back again after receiving his security chief’s acknowledgment, Kuno stared at a nature print hanging on the wall. _And no sign as of yet of Ranma’s foul influence relaxing its hold on the fair Akane. Well, it is early days — he had his claws sunk into her for over two years, it will take at least a few weeks for the damage to heal. So, back to your ‘practice’,_ he added with a grimace, turning back to his desk’s computer and bringing up the next file.

/oOo\

Ukyo gazed at the strange American sitting on the grass beside her by the koi pond, propped up on his elbows. “So let me make sure I got this straight,” the new Saotome said. “You’re a member of a militant anti-slavery organization that Ranma never knew existed.”

“Correct,” Juan de Oro agreed. “We never seriously considered recruiting him. He wasn’t much given to smiting the ungodly — the times he helped out the Underground Railroad mainly consisted of providing protection from possible reprisals by the otokodate when the Railroad’s path crossed theirs.”

“But you want _me_ to join you — why me?”

De Oro shrugged. “Your own history — the years you spent training to seek revenge on the Saotomes — says that you _are_ given to smiting the ungodly, at least when they offend you personally — and your offer to join the Railroad means you’ve moved beyond simple personal offense. But we aren’t actually offering a place in our ranks, yet. You have your own mess to clean up here in Nerima first — once that’s over, _then_ we’ll talk. We _are_ asking you to take on a single job.”

Ukyo nodded. “Glad you recognize the facts on the ground, Sugar. So, just what is this job you want me to do?”

 “How much do you know of the otokodate underground in Nerima?” de Oro asked, straightening up.

“Not a thing,” Ukyo replied. “I ran an honest business and didn’t gamble, and they aren’t stupid enough to try the usual protection rackets here.”

“No, they aren’t,” de Oro agreed with a chuckle. “But they _do_ use the lording as a transshipment point for slave smuggling. The new lord of Nerima decided to do something about it when he learned of the possibility. But his steward suspects that much of the local law enforcement is in the pockets of the otokodate, and he’s right. So Morimasa brought in an independent firm, the Half-Closed Eye, to handle the investigation — actually, Morimasa had hired them some time ago and will simply update and pass on their report after allowing a little time for his new lord to think that a new investigation was carried out.

“Unfortunately, the Half-Closed Eye wasn’t the best choice. They aren’t penetrated by any of the otokodate, but they _are_ a secret arm of the Ikaris, and Gendo decided to pass word of Kuno-dono’s interest in the slave smuggling to the otokodate in charge. Inaba, the evil bastard damned in the eyes of God that rules the otokodate here, has decided to make this a test of Kuno-dono’s resolve. He’s going to go ahead with business as usual, but if Kuno-dono orders a raid the slavers are ordered to inflict maximum casualties on the attackers while holding them off long enough for all the slaves being held to be slaughtered. Then they are to kill themselves rather than allow themselves to be captured. Then Inaba will see if Kuno-dono is willing to continue interfering in his operations.”

Ukyo stared at the American in shock. “That ... he ... and I thought that some of the people coming after Ranma were ruthless. Okay, I’m in, what do you want me to do?”

“It’s simple enough — we’ll give you advance warning of the raid Kuno-dono will undoubtedly order, and you and whatever allies join you get into the warehouse first to prevent the slaughter of as many of the slaves as you can.”

Ukyo stared into the koi pond for a time, then asked, “How long?”

“Probably a few weeks, that’s when the greatest concentration of victims will be onsite.”

Taking a deep breath, Ukyo nodded. “If I can, I’m in. But I recently had to give up the School I spent my life learning, and will need to get permission from my new adoptive father — if he assents and thinks I can be ready in time, I’m your girl.”

“Good.” De Oro stood up and brushed himself off. “I have to get moving, this has actually been a side trip for me and I’m already going to be late. When we know when the assault is going down you’ll be contacted, but it won’t be me. Do you know ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic’?” Ukyo shook her head. “Check with Nabiki, she knows it. Memorize it, whoever contacts you will use a phrase from it to identify himself.” Then when she started to rise he waved her back down. “I’ll show myself out, why don’t you go have a talk with your new father?” And with that he walked around the corner of the house toward the front gate and was gone.

A moment later, the gracefully feminine form of Konatsu landed beside Ukyo, staring after the American. “What an unusual man. Are you certain about this, Mistress? We are getting into very deep waters.”

“Back from your delivery already? Yes, Konatsu, I’m certain,” Ukyo asserted. “But that’s just me, you don’t have to —”

But Konatsu was shaking his head, rippling the long hair spilling down his back from its high ponytail. “No, Mistress, where you go I go, now and forever.”

Ukyo gazed at her self-appointed crossdressing servant for a long moment, then sighed. “Alright, Sugar, let’s go talk to Genma.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Juan de Oro is my take on a more sophisticated and realistic John Brown, smiting the ungodly — but trying to do so in ways that actually have a chance of making a difference.
> 
> The chapter title come from the song by Sara Groves:
> 
> And when I'm weary and overwrought  
> with so many battles left unfought  
> I think of Paul and Silas in the prison yard  
> I hear their song of freedom rising to the stars
> 
> I see the shepherd Moses in the Pharaoh's court  
> I hear his call for freedom for the people of the Lord
> 
> And when the Saints go marching in  
> I want to be one of them  
> And when the Saints go marching in  
> I want to be one of them
> 
> I see the long quiet walk along the Underground Railroad  
> I see the slave awakening to the value of her soul
> 
> I see the young missionary and the angry spear  
> I see his family returning with no trace of fear
> 
> I see the long hard shadows of Calcutta nights  
> I see the sisters standing by the dying man's side
> 
> I see the young girl huddled on the brothel floor  
> I see the man with a passion come kicking down that door
> 
> I see the man of sorrow and his long troubled road  
> I see the world on his shoulders and my easy load
> 
> And when the Saints go marching in  
> I want to be one of them


	17. Fog of War

Kodachi hissed as she sank into the hot water of her personal furo, then grimaced at the _very_ faint snort she heard from her usual ninja guard standing against the wall of the younger Kuno’s expansive personal bathroom. “So you find the beating that Ranma inflicted on me today amusing, do you?” she mock-growled as her body-slave started to soap up her hair in the small basin built into the furo’s rim for just that purpose.

The ninja bowed slightly. “Of course not, Mistress,” she said in the young female voice that was the only thing other than the way she moved that indicated her sex.

“Ah, so you can lie, even if only for diplomacy’s sake,” Kodachi mused. “Well, I’m sure _Ranma_ found it so, so at least _something_ good came out of it.”

“You did seem somewhat ... distracted,” the ninja hesitantly said. “You did better on previous days.”

“ ‘Distracted’,” Kodachi repeated, then chuckled. “Yes, you could say that. What is your name?”

“Matsumoto Hanh, Mistress.”

“ ‘Hanh’ — how appropriate,” Kodachi said, chuckling again as she considered the meaning of the name that proclaimed her shadow’s Vietnamese heritage. “So tell me, ‘Right Conduct’, what does ‘honor’ mean to you?”

/oOo\

Pyo Jun Si, the Kuno Master of Servants, and Master of the ninjas sworn to Kuno service, sighed as he glanced at the digital clock in the wall, then back to the servants and ninja gathered before his desk. _So Tatewaki-dono is having another late night. He isn’t practicing his kenjutsu enough, either. Perhaps if I discreetly suggest he train his bedmate? It will give him a reason to spend more time at home and might even build a true bond between the two, evade the Day._

Just then another ninja hurried into the office and bowed to the Ninja Master. “My apologies for my tardiness, Pyo-sensei,” she said. “Kodachi-sama is dining, but my relief was unavoidably delayed.”

“Yes, it was reported to me, Hanh,” Pyo reassured. “There is no discredit to you. But now that you _are_ here, let’s get started. How do things stand with your Kodachi-sama?”

“Interestingly, Sensei,” Hanh responded. “There is no hint that she is thinking of attempting to break her house arrest, or even resenting it. Instead, when she isn’t studying, practicing her Art or entertaining herself, she seems to be taking Tatewaki-dono’s appeal to find a purpose to devote her life to seriously. I considered the possibility that it might be an act, to set us at ease before making an escape attempt, but now I am not so sure — today she ceased to treat me as a piece of furniture that moves and asked for my views on the nature of honor.”

“Honor? In what sense?” Pyo asked, eyebrow rising.

“How important I considered it, what its practical purpose is, and the nature of the rules I believe honor demands I follow.”

“So, she may finally be growing up,” Pyo mused. “If true, that will make things better, if not necessarily easier.” _And having two masters worthy of our service will be a vast improvement — Tatewaki-dono was a very pleasant surprise, could his sister actually prove the same?_

“One other thing, Sensei,” Hanh added, “Kodachi-sama knows of Ranko’s true name, she used it this afternoon when referring to the beating she received sparring with Ranko this afternoon.”

“She does? I wonder when she accepted the truth.” Pyo said, surprised. “Does Ranko know that she knows?”

“I do not know. If so, it could explain why she agreed to Kodachi-sama joining her spar and practice with Usagi. Also ... I checked the time that Kodachi-sama arrived home from her celebration. It overlaps when Ranko was outside the mansion, and she used the entrance by the garden I found Ranko using for contemplation. It is not possible they would not have met.”

Pyo nodded thoughtfully. “True, and we have no way of knowing what they might have said. They certainly didn’t fight.” Once again, Pyo hid a grimace at the way that Tatewaki-dono’s insistence on employing the girl he’d purchased when his father broke Juuban to his will created a huge blind spot in his servant’s ability to maintain surveillance of the household. Considering Usagi’s obvious loyalty to her master, there was no point in asking her to report his activities to the Master of Servants. That hadn’t unduly bothered Pyo in the past, but now that ‘Ranko’ was a member of the household —

Putting aside the conundrum once again, Pyo turned to another of the ninjas. “Shuzo, have you been able to contact the Mentalist?”

The older man bowed slightly. “Yes, Pyo-sensei, I have. The retainer I needed to offer was considerable, but he has agreed to come immediately whenever we call.”

Now Pyo did grimace, but reluctantly nodded. “If this goes on too long that will put a significant strain on household expenses, but there’s no getting around it. Sabir, what of the surveillance of the Tendo dojo?”

/oOo\

Team Leader Nakajima Kenjiro waited with hard-learned patience at the edge of the forest that ran along the cleared strip of land around the perimeter fence of a Kuno manufactory. That patience had been perhaps the hardest lesson the street samurai had learned in his years as a ronin, but it was the most important, and so he and the rest of his ad hoc team waited for the signal from the forward scouts that they’d cleared a way through the installation’s physical security.

Between the scouts, the net runners, and traitors inside the manufactory, Kenjiro wasn’t expecting much trouble getting in. As well, there was the nature of the target — he had helped raid many different types of businesses over the years, but this was the first time he’d ever been hired to destroy a _clothing_ factory, even if the clothing in question was top-line. Still, it wasn’t like it was a research facility or weapons production line, just how tough could the security be?

Over his ear bug, he heard the pattern of clicks signaling the all clear from the scouts and grinned as he clicked the code to move out. Finally! This wasn’t going to be the most exciting mission he’d ever carried out, but maybe there’d be a _little_ excitement along the way.

As Kenjiro rose to a crouch from the base of the tree he’d been using for cover and moved toward to the fence, he caught a hint of movement out of the corner of his eye. He whirled and raised his assault rifle only to freeze in place, gaping at sight of the earth-haired, ponytailed teenage girl in a green miniskirt stepping out of the treeline, a glowing ball of what looked like electricity sparking between her hands. Hhe shook himself free from his surprise and swung his rifle toward her, and the lightning leapt toward him and his world went white even as he felt a wash of heat at his back and heard Miwako behind him screaming just before their ammunition ignited.

/oOo\

“But My Lord, we don’t _have_ any more men to send!” Takeuchi Kazuki objected. “The only men we could possibly spare are those tasked to the security of the Kuno estate!” The short, solid chief of security paused, suddenly thoughtful. “You know, that could work, for a few weeks at least. With the Imperial Army guarding some of our installations and shipping and Hibiki limiting his wide-ranging attacks to those facilities without heavy security” — and how Hibiki knew which those were, Takeuchi had no idea, and didn’t think anyone else did, either — “and the ronin we’ve hired, the small army we’re keeping here in Nerima to discourage outright assault might make the difference.” Grimacing, he added, “If we could count on our mysterious allies to pick up the slack in a predictable way we wouldn’t need to do even that.”

Kuno nodded, concealing his own grimace. Twice in the past week, teams of street samurai attacking Kuno facilities had been intercepted just short of their targets and wiped out to the last man and woman.

Another time, the unknown allies had intercepted the ronin _after_ they had completed their raid on one of the Kuno research facilities, the raiders again wiped out to the last man. That time, it turned out that the reason for the raid had been illegal research into a new designer drug, including testing on illegal slaves. Kuno had called in the Tokubetsu Koto Keisatsu as soon as his investigators realized what they had on their hands, and now the Tokko were crawling all over the facility, with one of the Emperor’s Hands acting as overseer — some Kuno retainers were going to be crucified and their families sold into permanent slavery when the investigation was over, and Kuno was lucky that it had been brought to light this early in his rule or he might have been held responsible as well.

“Do you believe that we will be safe here without those security forces?” he asked.

Takeuchi hesitated, but finally nodded. “We should be,” he said. “Nothing short of heavy weapons is likely to get through the Family ninja and booby-traps on your estate, and there is Nerima’s own population to consider — they are unlikely to take well to an invasion of their home. Besides, the very fact we’ve pulled all the heavy security out of Nerima will set our enemies aback.”

“Like Zhuge Liang, flinging open the gates of an empty city,” Kuno said even as he chuckled at the thought of the intensely booby-trapped estate grounds, all the traps ready to be played like an orchestra from the central control room when they weren’t set to their normal automated status. Apparently, there was at least one good thing about having a highly ‘eccentric’ rich lord, and now he was glad that he hadn’t had either the time or ready kobankin to tear the booby traps out and replace them with a more rational security system. “Very well,” he agreed, nodding. “Repost the Neriman security contingent to our more vulnerable facilities as soon as we carry out the raid on the slavers.”

“My Lord, unless we move the date up that raid is a week away, and repositioning the security will take time,” Takeuchi pointed out. “Even if we started shifting them right away, we are probably going to lose a few more facilities — to Hibiki if no one else. I understand your desire to crush these slavers, fully agree with it, but our first responsibility is to our own people.”

Kuno gazed at his subordinate, reflecting again on his worries about the trustworthiness of the lording police force — if the security forces were moved out immediately, the raid would have to either be called off or handed off to Captain Kasai to take care of. There probably wasn’t much of a security risk for the raids on the illegal brothels, those would have few armed guards and so could be handled with little enough forewarning to the police assigned to them that any corrupt officials wouldn’t have time to warn their targets of what was coming. But the transshipment point was another matter — the sheer number of girls being held there would guarantee a higher number of guards, and so require a greater amount for preplanning. _Still, as much as I don’t like it, Takeuchi is correct — our own people must come first._ “Very well, reassign the Neriman security and move them to their new assignments as quickly as possible. I’ll make arrangements with Captain Kasai for the raid on the slavers, and hope for the best.”

“Yes, My Lord,” Takeuchi acknowledged, rose and bowed, then quickly left. Kuno watched his unofficial general leave, then with a sigh turned back to his desk’s monitor to resume the ever-present paperwork. _Just a few more hours,_ he thought to himself encouragingly, _and then on to kenjutsu practice with the center of my life, dinner, and bed. I will have to remember to come up with a particularly fine reward for Pyo for his suggestion._

/oOo\

“You are certain that the energy signatures match?” the Emperor asked his Hand.

The (usually) nondescript woman nodded an affirmative. “Yes, Your Majesty.” Then, frowning slightly, she added, “Actually, one of the signatures is new. But the others all match those picked up at the sites of battles between the Senshi and their otherworldly opponents, and the new one shares general characteristics with the others — I’d say we are looking at a new Senshi.”

The Emperor turned from his Hand to gaze down on the garden he found so comforting. “So, Meioh-san has chosen to side with a Family she hates, and that after doing her best to outbid Kuno-dono for Ranma’s services.”

“I know that there is some sort of link between Meioh-san and the Senshi,” the Hand said cautiously. “There has to be, considering how many of the warriors and mages she’s recruited have been seen fighting alongside the Senshi. But perhaps this time the Senshi are acting without her approval, maybe even without her knowledge?”

“Perhaps, but I doubt it,” the Emperor disagreed, turning back toward his subordinate. “We never were able to come up with a good reason for her massive bid at the auction, and now this, the first intervention of the Senshi in the Great Game, also touches on the Kuno Family. It cannot be a coincidence. Still,” he continued thoughtfully, “you are right that we shouldn’t make assumptions. Set up a team to deal with this specifically and see what they can come up with.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the Hand said, then bowed deeply and quickly left, leaving the Emperor to the garden and his thoughts. Oddly enough, those thoughts weren’t about the mysterious Meioh-san or her Senshi allies, but of the report he’d received just that day of another massive and now shattered screen at the Nerima Slave Center, this time with guards on the buildings across the street knocked out by unknown (because unseen) assailants first. _Good for you, Tendo Nabiki,_ he thought fondly. _You keep right on pruning away at the wild growth. We’ll have this trimmed back into shape, yet._

/oOo\

Nabiki sighed with relief as she shut down the link between her computer and the Kuno Family mainframe. _And you pull it off again ... I think._ she slumped back in her seat and rubbed at aching temples. She still couldn’t believe Kuno had been stupid enough to give her remote access to his home computer once to upload some _special_ pictures of Akane and ‘his’ pigtailed girl, long enough for her to create a backdoor. And then, when she’d learned of the Elder Kuno’s death, she’d moved fast enough to hook up and piggyback when Kuno was upgraded to a superuser of the Kuno Family systems. Still, no matter how well she hid her tracks, sooner or later the Kuno security was going to clue in to the fact that there were two Kuno-donos swanning around their network. _But not yet, and no signs that they suspect a thing, so all should be good, no worries. Yeah, right, that’s why you’re drenched in sweat._

Standing and stretching before grabbing her bathing supplies, Nabiki headed for the furo. _So, let’s get cleaned up, then let everyone know the news. Akane will be disappointed that I can’t give her any word on Ranma yet, damn it, but Ukyo ought to find the news that Kuno Security is pulling out interesting. I wonder what impact that is going to have on the raid coming up? Still, I think that will be the last time I access the Kuno systems until everything blows up — that little surprise I’ve set up won’t do us any good if I can’t access it._

As she stripped down and soaped up, she thought longingly of the reports she’d read of the latest innovation to appear in that hotbed of invention, the United States — neural interfaces hooked up directly to the optic nerve with a limited list of instructions transmitted at the speed of thought. Granted, that wasn’t much of an improvement over her current capabilities, but it was just the beginning, what was almost certainly coming after was staggering — and bound to be expensive as hell. _Hmmm, I wonder if the Children of Israel would be willing to pony up the cash when the time comes for the needed operations a few years down the line, if it means having a skilled hacker with the best equipment among their ranks?_

/oOo\

Ranma writhed, hands clutching at her bountiful breasts, her master’s head between her legs. Her hips were pushing against Kuno’s face, his arms wrapped around her thighs the only thing keeping her thrusts under control enough to hold them together. The sweat-slicked redhead threw her head back, moaning and gasping, eyes unseeing as another wave of pleasure washed through her from the tongue eagerly playing with her. Suddenly, she stiffened with a shout as the now well-familiar feeling of another orgasm exploded out from her hot cleft and raced up her body.

Collapsing limply back onto their huge bed, she lay there dazedly gasping for breath as he rose from between her legs. She hastily suppressed the frown threatening to break out. _That wasn’t up to Kuno’s usual standards,_ she thought, confused. _He’s been distracted all evening — I had an even easier time than usual during kenjutsu practice, he was unusually disjointed at dinner — is he finally getting ready to move against Akane?_ A rush of conflicting emotions washed through the hopefully-temporary girl at the thought. Kuno had been gentle, kind, considerate since she’d found herself in his bed; and Usagi adored him (and someone that ray of sunshine liked couldn’t be _all_ bad). But he was also the monster that had tried to force the Tendos into slavery, Akane into his bed, had succeeded in doing just that with ‘his pigtailed girl’, had forced Soun to commit seppuku — and, more than anything, Ranma wanted to _go home_!

“I would say my lady is well prepared for the true flight above the clouds,” Kuno said, breaking into Ranma’s thoughts as he sat back on his heels and ran a finger along his chin. Leaning forward, he offered it to his bedmate, and Ranma lifted her head to capture the finger with her mouth, lips gently holding it in place as her tongue worked around it, cleaning it as the tangy-tart flavor of her own juices filled her mouth. Kuno slowly pulled it out as she sucked, and she smiled saucily up at him as the finger popped free.

“So, what’s on the menu for tonight?” she asked.

“Tonight we’ll try a new position from my inexhaustible repertoire!” Kuno replied.

Ranma’s smile turned into a laugh. “Yeah, like _that’s_ new — it’s been a new position every night ya’ve been here, that you’ve been in charge.”

“Ah, but it is my duty to keep things interesting for my Lady!” he asserted, striking a pose and startling a laugh from the redhead.

“Okay, what do I do?” she asked.

Within moments, Ranma was stretch out on her side, one arm stretched along the bed above her head and pressing against the slave-collar chain she had insisted on always wearing when they had sex, while the other hand again played gently with one of her breasts. One leg was lying outstretched along the bed’s damp and stained sheet. Her master was crouched over her leg on the bed, her other leg stretched up over his shoulder as he clutched it to his chest with one arm. His other hand grasped his cock, providing guidance, and Ranma sucked in a breath as he pulled back, then gently pushed forward to bury himself deep into her sheath.

Kuno built up a rhythm of slow, deep thrusts alternating with quick jabs, shifting his position to change the angle from time to time. Ranma was again moaning between gasps, and she saw his smile broaden as one thrust called out a particularly loud yip from the girl beneath him. “I do believe I have found a particularly sensitive spot,” he said between deep breaths of his own. “I shall have to remember it.” Then his smile vanished as he picked up the pace even more.

Ranma closed her eyes, hand moving from a nipple crinkled tight with pleasure to rub at the nub above the rod pistoning into her depths, as she again felt the pressure building inside her hot center with each pounding thrust — almost there ... almost there —

And she felt Kuno grow even harder, twitch, and his seed exploded into her. _Not yet!_ she wailed in her mind, but Kuno pulled back and out.

After a moment, his breathing slowing, he lifted a hand to wipe sweat-damp hair from his forehead, then lay down to pull her body against his own in a one-arm hug. “Sorry,” he murmured, his usual flowery speech absent. “I ... that hasn’t happened in ... give me a few minutes and I’ll make it up to you.”

Ranma sighed and pulled her hand from where it had been trapped between the pair’s hips. “Okay, Kuno-dono, what’s goin’ on?” she asked.

“And why should my Lady believe that something is ‘goin’ on’?” Kuno asked.

Ranma’s lips twitched. “You’ve been distracted ever since ya got home, and that’s the first time ya haven’t gotten me off before ya let yerself go.” Steeling herself, she asked hesitantly, “Is it Ranma? Has he broken his agreement with you? Are ya movin’ against the Tendos again?”

Kuno lifted himself up on one arm. Gazing down at the sweat-shiny face of his slave, he shook his head. “No, it isn’t,” he said, disappointment clear in his voice. “So far, that demonic enslaver of the fairer sex has proved remarkably honorable — there hasn’t been a sign of him since you were delivered up to the slave master’s retainers, though your sister in slavery has yet to break free of the chains he has bound about her and the hooligans that have been attacking the display screen at the slave center may well be his minions.”

“So what is it?” Ranma demanded again, ignoring the rush of disappointment intermingled with a touch of relief that washed through her. “Come on, nothin’ else is happenin’ ‘till ya tell me.”

Kuno’s eyes widened, then he dipped his head in an abrupt bow. “As my mistress commands!” he intoned, grinning when Ranma stiffened. His face sobering, he lay back down, on his back, staring at the plain ceiling as he spoke of the evil permeating his lording, his plans for an overwhelming strike against the villains, and — reluctantly — about his doubts about the trustworthiness of the lording’s police force and his worries about the coming assault against the transshipment point.

When he finished, Ranma rolled from her side to stare at the ceiling herself. After a long moment, she murmured, “So, ya gotta make the raid when the most girls are there to be rescued, but ya don’t know if ya can trust yer own people. Good call, you’re right ta be worried.” Rolling back on her side and propping herself up on an elbow, it was her turn to gaze down at her master’s face. “Ya know, what ya need is someone on the inside — who can be ready ta protect the girls if somethin’ goes wrong with the raid.”

“And how would I get this ally inside?” Kuno asked. “These otokodate thugs know each other, anyone new would require vouchering and a reason for his presence.”

“And what if it isn’t a ‘he’? What if it’s a ‘her’ instead?” Ranma rebutted. “Ya obviously have someone inside these otokodate passin’ ya info, how about passin’ somethin’ the other way? What’s one more kidnapped girl bein’ shipped off ta some brothel or harem?”

Kuno’s eyes widened. “That is truly brilliant!” he enthused, then frowned. “But whatever girl we send in will need to be highly skilled in the unarmed martial arts and willing to risk being raped if she has not preserved her chastity — sometimes these thugs make use of those girls who have already given up their virginity to pass the time while waiting to send them on.”

“Not a problem,” Ranma said offhandedly. “I already know someone who’s ready ta volunteer.” As Kuno’s gaze sharpened, she added, “Me.”

“No!” Kuno shouted, jerking up to a sitting position. “Never! I will not allow the light of my life, the center of my universe, to be treated so foully!”

_Yeah, like they’ll do much more ta me that ya haven’t already...._ Ranma slid off the bed and stood, arms folded across her bare breasts. “Am I a warrior, Kuno- _dono_?” she asked. “A weapon ta yer hand ta be used against bastards like these? Or am I just a pretty bird ta sing fer ya from my cage?” Kuno stared at her, struck speechless, and she continued with a shrug, “Yeah, I could end up gettin’ raped. It isn’t anything that any girl trained ta combat doesn’t hafta think about — everybody loses sometimes, an’ whoever beats ‘em might not be exactly honorable. It’s simply one a’ the risks a’ being a warrior, if you’re female.”

“But what about your Adjustment? Wouldn’t that interfere with your ability to act?” Kuno asked desperately.

Ranma shook her head. “Naw — don’t forget, the Adjustment allows me ta defend myself so long as _you_ aren’t the one doin’ the attackin’. These thugs aren’t gonna expect me ta be Adjusted, so it shouldn’t be hard ta convince them that I’m a threat and act accordingly — an’ then _I_ can act accordingly. So, do we do whatever we hafta ta save those girls?”

Finally, Kuno reluctantly nodded. “Yes, we do. I will speak with the conduit for our contact within the otokodate to arrange smuggling you in.

“But that is for tomorrow,” he added, eyes running along the smoothly-muscled form so proudly on display, then focusing on the sweat-dampened patch of trimmed red hair just above her legs’ joining. His other head rose at the sight and he held out an open hand. “Come, let me make up for my earlier lapse before we seek out our dreams.”


	18. The Tightening Spiral

Ikari Gendo gazed expressionlessly at the man dressed in Ikari livery standing before his desk, the raven-haired, bearded man’s gaze flinty-hard. “So, Kasai-san, the asset you failed to acquire — and more importantly keep away from the Kunos — at the auction is again within reach,” he said tonelessly.

Kasai nodded jerkily. “Y-y-yes, Ikari-dono,” he stammered. “With Ranma out of the Kuno mansion and in a known location, we will be able to get a strike team in to grab her.”

“And how will Kuno-dono think that we knew where she is?” Gendo asked. “Ranma will be disguised, the otokodate won’t know who she is, the police won’t know she’s there at all, all that leaves is the agent of the Half-Closed Eye as the most likely way that any strike team would know where to find her. While that delusional fool is unlikely to think of that, his retainers are very impressive — they will, they will investigate, and we will be forced to eliminate our agents at the agency before the acquisition is traced back to us.”

“True, my lord,” Kasai hastily agreed. “Normally a single asset wouldn’t be worth giving up the intelligence our agents in HCE give us, but this is Ranma!”

“And if Ranma resists being acquired?”

“But ... she’s been Adjusted, so long as we’re careful to use nonlethal force she won’t be able to effectively resist us,” Kasai protested.

“Idiot! Didn’t you bother to read the adjuster’s report? The Adjustment is almost certain to fail at the first true test. You are as lazy as you are incompetent. Instruct Personnel that you are to turn your duties over to your second and be transferred to desk duty at our Switzerland office.”

“Yes, sir,” the now profusely sweating Kasai acknowledged, bowed deeply, and jerkily marched from the office.

“As incompetent as Kasai is,” said the young woman sitting off to the side of the briefing, “he did have a point about the value of the target.”

Gendo sighed. “True, Katsuragi, but only if we found some way to convince him to serve us willingly. If he believes his honor is involved that is unlikely — and it is likely he does, why else would he still be warming Kuno’s bed?

“Besides, Tendo Nabiki is also involved, and that young woman has hidden depths — we didn’t scent so much as a hint of her under-the-table financial dealings until the Kuno retainers had already seized them. _She_ will have a plan for Kuno, and Ranma is almost certainly part of it. No,” Gendo mused, “when your enemy has placed a viper in his own bed, leave it there.

“But whether they succeed or fail, they are likely to cause a certain amount of chaos — perhaps enough for us to act,” he mused, then nodded. “Update our plans for mobilizing a strike on the Kuno mansion if the opportunity presents itself.”

/oOo\

“But Hahn, that makes no sense,” Kodachi protested to her ninja minder as she slowly circled the young woman in the center of her brother’s personal dojo, eyes searching for a chink in the ninja’s position, anything that would give the teenage aristocrat the opening she needed. “It simply replaces no honor at all with someone else’s; you still have none of your own, nothing that someone else doesn’t give you.”

“No, mistress, we are servants,” Hahn disagreed, her purple-clothed body turning in place to always face her circling mistress. “The honor is in the service, doing all we can to see to our lord’s — or lady’s — wellbeing and to fulfill their wishes and desires.”

“And you think that will be enough, when you stand before Amaterasu’s throne? ‘I murdered, stole, lied and swindled, but it’s all right because it was what my lord wanted’?” Kodachi asked.

Hahn seemed to hesitate for just a moment and in a flash Kodachi was rolling toward her sparring partner, bouncing out of the roll with her fist thrusting ... through empty space. Desperately, she twisted to the side, and felt a muscle in her side twinge even as Hahn’s counterstrike swept through the space where she’d just been. The Black Rose hopped back out of immediate range and resumed her circling, breathing deeply.

“What does that matter to you?” Hahn asked as she resumed turning in place. “I’m not sure you even believe in Amaterasu.”

“I’m not sure I do, either,” Kodachi agreed. “But if she does exist, and does judge her descendants, I’d want a better explanation for the harm I’ve done than that I was someone’s pawn.”

Suddenly, Hahn was charging forward, reaching out, and Kodachi found herself spun in place, her feet kicked out from underneath her, and the mat smacked her in the face as a leg and arm were twisted up behind her. “And ‘I did it because it was fun’ is an improvement?” the ninja inquired as Kodachi struggled futilely against her hold. “At least I have dedicated my life to a greater cause than my own pleasure, fame or power.”

After a moment Kodachi slapped the mat twice. Hahn released her and stood up and away as her mistress rolled to her feet. “You’re too aggressive,” Hahn said reprovingly. “You sometimes get so caught up looking for ways to strike at your opponent that you forget that opponents can also attack.”

“Ya got that right!” came Ranma’s voice from the dojo’s doorway, and the two turned to find the redhead standing there beside a wide-eyed Usagi. “Good ta see you’re sparring with someone besides me,” Ranma continued. “Ya were gettin’ too used ta my moves. An’ it seems yer bodyguard is worthy of the name.”

Hahn bowed in gratified respect at the compliment. “You honor me, my lady,” she said softly.

“Just callin’ it like I see it,” Ranma replied. “And don’t call me that. I’m not nobody’s lady, I’m a slave.”

“It is our lord’s command —”

“Yeah, whatever,” Ranma said, cutting the ninja off with a wave of her hand. “Anyway, I gotta tell ya all somethin’ before we start — this’ll be the last sparring session fer awhile, ‘cause I won’t be here.”

“What? Where will you _be_? Tatewaki-dono isn’t disappointed in you, sending you away, is he? Ranko, I can talk to him —” Usagi babbled, only to break off when Ranma gently shook her by the arm.

“No, Kuno-dono isn’t ‘disappointed’ in me, far from it,” Ranma replied, grimacing slightly. “I won’t be here ‘cause I’ll be on a job ...”

/\

“ ... an’ so when the slaves are freed an’ their slavers dead or in jail an’ soon ta be dead, we can start up sparrin’ again,” Ranma finished.

“Ranko, I ... this sounds dangerous, are you sure ... ?” a pale Usagi managed to get out.

Ranma shrugged. “Yeah, I’m sure. An’ it shouldn’t be all that risky. I’ll be arrivin’ in the morning, a few hours before the police bust down the doors, so none a’ the thugs there should have time ta play with me, I’d think that sorta thing happens mostly during the evening.”

“Rape, Ranko, call it by its proper name,” Kodachi said sharply. Usagi’s already pale face bleached white, and she unconsciously reached out a hand, softly ran it along Ranma’s arm. _Interesting,_ Kodachi thought. _I knew Usagi and Ranma were getting close, but has Ranma made another unintentional conquest?_ She cast her mind back over the past several weeks. _Perhaps.Sshe doesn’t seem to be attracted to girls generally, but around Ranma ... perhaps. Amazing — locked in the wrong sex, and he_ still _draws girls like moths to a flame. I wonder why?_

As Kodachi had been ruminating, Ranma had hesitantly reached out and pulled Usagi into a one-armed hug. “Okay, yeah, so it’s rape, but it probably won’t happen. An’ if it does, I’ll survive and the bastard that does it won’t, not long. If I don’t kill him, the law will.” Taking a deep breath, she continued, “Now, I think we’re here ta practice?”

/oOo\

Kuno didn’t gasp with relief when the button lit up and soft chime sounded indicating an incoming call from his secretary, but only through an effort of will. The endless columns of numbers covering the finances of the Kuno Family holdings were becoming comprehensible thanks to the efforts of his endlessly patient (and carefully noncondescending) accountants, but they were mindnumbingly _boring_ , even taking into account how ... exciting ... things had become for the Kunos economically, thanks to Hibiki Ryoga, several other strikes from unknown enemies, and the increased security the attacks necessitated.

Hitting the button to accept his secretary’s call, Kuno straightened as a new window opened on his monitor, showing the cute redhead. “My lord,” Itsuko said, “you have a call from your Master of Servants, he wishes to speak to you.”

Kuno’s eyebrows rose. “Put the call through,” he ordered, and Itsuko disappeared to be replaced by Pyo dressed in his butler’s garb. He bowed as soon as he saw his lord.

“So, Pyo, what is so important that it couldn’t wait until this evening?” Kuno asked calmly as soon as their respective greetings were given.

“It might well be that this could have waited, but I couldn’t be certain,” Pyo admitted. “Your sister has asked permission to visit you at your office — she insists it cannot wait until this evening. Since it was your direct order that she be restricted to the mansion, I felt this required seeking your permission first.”

Kuno simply stared at the screen for a long moment. _Why on earth would_ Kodachi _wish to speak to me? Has the time spent with my life’s heart had its effect and my twisted sister is finally awakening to the nature of the depravity she has taken part in? Or is she simply looking for a way to escape the watchful eyes of our retainers and resume her debauched ways?_ “Certainly, send her here, I will somehow make room for her in my busy schedule.” _Was that a hint of a smile on Pyo-kun’s face?_ “But provide a sufficient escort so that she ... will not be tempted.”

Pyo bowed as best the monitor cameras allowed, and after politely finishing up the conversation Kuno returned to his labors. Or tried to, anyway — he found himself impossibly distracted by curiosity, his thoughts constantly returning to the coming meeting.

/oOo\

Nabiki slouched in front of her bedroom’s desktop computer, eyes on the economic news scrolling up the monitor that she’d neglected over the past few weeks, her mind wandering. Those weeks hadn’t been fun, but they had been productive. _Uncle Genma getting classes up and running, check. The auction house view screen taken out twice, check._ Nabiki smiled coldly at that thought — it looked like it wouldn’t be repaired in time for the next auction, and her new people were already quietly acquiring the materials for makeshift catapults from dumpsters and garbage heaps for when it _was_ repaired. And she was making plans for a pre-auction nighttime strike for the repair after that, so the auction house would have to add the costs of twenty-four hour guards to its budget, and that wouldn’t come cheap.... _Option for unexpected future alliance, check. Kept Akane from making a run at Kuno-‘dono’ out of hatred, impatience, and sheer nerves, check —_

The middle Tendo shot bolt upright and hit the ‘freeze’ key, stopping the information scroll. Eyes narrowing, she reread the news blurb that had caught her attention, then leaned back and stared thoughtfully at the wall. _So the Kaima clan lord sold his family’s assets to Americorp and moved the family to Seattle. Amazing — that family owned the wireless ‘net for all of Edo, and they just handed it over to an American company and left the Empire. Have things really gotten that bad in the Great Game? I mean, sure, what the Elder Kuno pulled on his rise to the top was pretty hardcore, but I’d think the shape his Family is in now would warn others not to emulate him. Besides, I didn’t think it was legal to sell Family assets to a foreign company._ She hit the ‘freeze’ key again to restart the scroll even as she ruminated on the latest twist. _No, actually it wasn’t that I thought it was illegal, I just didn’t think of it. Apparently, neither did anyone else._

Suddenly, an icon in one corner of the screen started to flash, and Nabiki quickly stopped the news again. Clicking on the blinking police badge, she ran through the lines of code that appear in the new window. _Okay, no surveillance, no hidden traps detected, the back door into the Nerima law enforcement network is clean, let’s see what’s so important..._ A few minutes’ reading, and Nabiki was finding her fierce grin broad enough to actually be painful. She saved several files to a memory stick, she shut down the connection and rose to stride toward the door, careful to banish the grin as she went.

/\

Striding toward the dojo entrance, Nabiki felt her grin threatening to break out again at the dull clacks of wood on wood coming from her destination. The wooden staves had been a brilliant idea on Genma’s part — cheap, not really considered a serious threat by law enforcement but with more reach than a short staff and claimable as a walking aid, and dangerous in trained hands. At this point, the four classes Genma was running daily were doing wonders for the household budget, the staves had become an unusual fashion statement all over Nerima, the whole situation was made to order —

Then Nabiki was in the dojo doorway. Looking over the students sparring, she nodded. _Good, Hiroshi’s team, the timing was perfect,_ she thought contentedly, then glanced over at her younger sister practicing alone off to the side and felt her mood sour. _And another argument to look forward to, to keep her out of the action._

After a few minutes of waiting, Genma called a halt to the sparring session and turned to the middle Tendo. Acknowledging her bow, he asked, “Nabiki, what can we do for you?”

“Sorry to interrupt the class, but I need to borrow Ukyo and Hiroshi,” Nabiki requested. Genma nodded permission to the two teenagers she’d named, and they strode toward her as Ukyo’s abandoned sparring partner stepped over to face Hiroshi’s.

“So what’s up,” Ukyo asked as Nabiki led them back toward the house.

“Have you been contacted by the Children of Israel yet?”

Ukyo shook her head, gaze sharpening.

“Well, you probably will be tonight,” Nabiki continued. “The police just got the heads-up about the raid on the holding compound, and I imagine your contact will be passing you the information then.” Without break stride, she reached back to hand Ukyo the memory stick. “Here’s the initial plans for the police assault, it’ll be going in tomorrow afternoon. I’ll update you if they change. Don’t forget to only use the memory stick with the tablet I loaned you, with the disabled wireless. Oh, and _don’t_ mention to your contact that you already have the plans.”

“Right,” Ukyo acknowledged, glancing over at Hiroshi and grinning at the look of amazement on his face.

“You have an in at police headquarters?” the stunned boy asked.

“Something like that,” Nabiki agreed offhandedly, then took the stairs up to her room two at a time to break off the line of questioning.

Once in her room, she sat down in front of her computer and brought up the plans. “Okay, we have the converted warehouse with rooms for the kidnapped girls around the outside wall and a hallway going all the way around, and the center taken up by a single large walled room used as a cafeteria. There’s the main entrance here on the east side along with the loading dock, and side entrances on the north and south. The initial plan is to keep it simple, with a few police covering each of the side entrances and the main assault going in through the main door and loading dock.

“We won’t be able to fully plan our own infiltration until you’re contacted, Ukyo,” Nabiki continued, glancing at the adopted Saotome. “I expect he’ll have word of what the otokodate have planned. But I think your best bet is to ignore the doors and use the windows all around the second story, they’ll put you on this overhead catwalk where you can see everything below you. And with no doors on the west side, there shouldn’t be any guards there, either. Elder Cologne’s already suggested, and I agree, that it’s probably best if the Amazons stay out of this — their status as foreigners make them vulnerable, and their help with the auction house viewscreen might already be pushing it. I assume Konatsu will be going with you, how about Uncle Genma, is he still in?”

“Yeah, says he wouldn’t miss it,” Ukyo said. “Says he has some anger to work off — I _really_ wouldn’t want to be any thug he encounters.”

“Remember, don’t kill anyone unless you have to,” Nabiki reminded her. “We want to shut this down while seeming as harmless and law-abiding as possible.”

Ukyo looked doubtful, but shrugged her agreement. “Yeah, whatever. I think it’s wasted effort, but I’ll go along. Not so sure about Father. But what about Akane? She’s going to insist on going along, and she’s way beyond her normal bad temper. If she goes in, she could easily end up dead.”

Nabiki made a face. “Yes, I know. I’ll play the ‘you may be pregnant’ card again and ask her to stay on the roof of this warehouse here” — using the mouse’s pointer to circle the warehouse to the west — “and act as backup.

“Which brings me to you, Hiroshi.” Making sure she had the younger boy’s attention, she continued, “Your people aren’t ready for this by a long shot — they can’t roof hop so the windows are out, and the thugs at the doors will have guns. So instead, I want you to put people here, here, and here.” The pointer ran along several alleys behind the warehouse running north/south and off to the west. “However, leave the staves at home and take cameras — no flashes. I wouldn’t be surprised if the otokodate have some sort of bolthole out the west wall. If they do and any escape, I want your people hiding along these alleys to get photos of their faces. I’ll deal with them later.”

“No staves?” Hiroshi questioned, looking faintly rebellious, but Nabiki shook her head.

“No. You’ve been training less than three weeks, even if it’s been intense, and most of the training you have would be useless in this situation. So let’s not give your people false courage, maybe get some killed, and tip our hand all at the same time. Stick to photos, and keeping it safe.”

Hiroshi nodded reluctant agreement with a sigh, and Ukyo stood up.

“I think that’s the best we’ll be able to plot things out without Father and whatever my contact might drop off tonight. Hiroshi and I should get back to the class. I’ll pass on your suggestions to Father.”

Nabiki looked at her sharply, but Ukyo just looked back blandly and eventually Nabiki nodded. “Right, suggestions,” she agreed. “You’re right, this’s as much as we can get in with just the three of us. Head back to class, I still have news to catch up on.”

Then, before Ukyo could move, Nabiki added, “And if Uncle Genma’s too bloodthirsty, remind him of the punishment that any of these thugs taken alive will be facing.”

With quick bows the suddenly thoughtful younger teens left, and Nabiki turned back to her computer to start the news blurbs scrolling again.

/oOo\

Usagi paced Kuno-dono’s suite, for the first time in weeks looking for something to do. Even before Ranko had been brought into the household and decided to make her newly-appointed body slave get serious about her martial arts training, the blonde teenager had usually been occupied in the mornings when her master rose for the day and with the clean-up afterwards, and in the evenings after he got home from work — it had been the middle of her days that had been unoccupied. But now with her mistress gone undercover (Usagi did her best to ignore the icy shock of fear that swept through her again at the thought) and Kuno-dono calling to tell her he wouldn’t be coming home that night, Usagi was at loose ends just when she needed distraction the most.

She picked up the duster, then looked around only to fail to find a surface that hadn’t already been dusted twice, along with every other cleaning chore in the suite. Sighing as she put the duster away, she briefly considered actually taking a look at some lessons ahead of schedule, but rejected the thought as she remembered how she had struggled to get through the assigned lessons that afternoon, even more than usual — she wasn’t _that_ bored yet (‘bored’, right, that was the word — not ‘terrified’, Ranko could take care of herself if anyone could). She thought about logging into the solitaire netgames she had played when Makoto had been doing katas before Ranko arrived, but found the formerly fascinating games painful to contemplate. She just wasn’t used to being _alone_ anymore!

Then the memory of a blue-haired girl flashed across her mind, and Usagi instantly brightened. She hadn’t seen Ami since before Ranko had come and Makoto had been freed. With Usagi working evenings and Makoto needing to be available for their master’s bed if he chose, only the weekends that Kuno had spent elsewhere had been available to the three Juuban slaves for getting together. Then with Ranko’s arrival even the weekends had gone away, since Usagi’s new mistress never left the mansion. But now the blonde _did_ have an evening free, and Usagi was suddenly desperate for a familiar voice.

Whirling, she hurried to the computer console and hit the button for the communication system. A few seconds’ work, and a window opened up showing Mizuno Ami, her blue hair still cut even shorter than the standard shoulder-length cut for Kuno female slaves. “Ami,” Usagi began as soon as her image appeared, “I actually have an evening free, are you busy with anything, can I come over and visit? I’m really bored here and could use some company, and —”

Ami held up a hand. “Whoa, easy, Usagi! Sure, come on over, I’m just doing some light reading.”

“ ‘Light reading’? What is it, _General Principles of Abdominal Surgery_?” Usagi teased.

“ _Basic Methods and Principles of Physical Rehabilitation_ , actually,” Ami replied with a shrug and a wry smile at Usagi’s laugh.

“I’ll be right down,” Usagi said, and broke the connection, then hurried into the bathroom and checked over her French maid outfit and shoulder-length hair to make sure she was presentable. Briefly considering changing into her ‘off-hours’ clothing, she decided it would take too long and rushed out of the suite for the housing wing for the slaves not assigned to household tasks.

/\

Usagi paused outside her friend’s door, finished closing the clasp on her slave collar (still blushing somewhat from the discreet reminder she’d received from one of the servants she’d passed), then knocked. A moment later Ami opened the door, an eyebrow going up as she looked her friend over.

“Wow, looking good, Usagi,” she remarked as she let her fellow Juuban slave into her dorm room. “What have you been doing the last few weeks, lifting weights?”

“Well ... some,” Usagi admitted. “Ranko insists on some, at least, as part of my exercise for my martial arts training — she says I need more endurance.”

Ami’s other eyebrow rose to join its companion. “ ‘Ranko’?” she asked. “From what I’ve heard through the servants’ grapevine, shouldn’t that be ‘Mistress’?” _Or maybe ‘Master’. The stories_ can’t _be true, but whenever I say that the ones that have been here longest just shrug and say T.I.N. — This Is Nerima._

Usagi’s blush resumed its full strength. “Well, yes ...” she said slowly. “But she hates it, so I only call her that when Kuno-dono’s around.”

If Ami’s eyebrows weren’t already up, they would have risen at that. _Kuno-dono? When did ‘Tatewaki-dono’ go away?_ Motioning toward her bed, she pulled her chair away from her desk-load of books and sat. “So, tell me all about this wonder — if she’s actually able to get you to exercise, I have serious doubts about her humanity,” she said with a wide smile few people ever saw from the normally quiet girl.


	19. Battlestations!

“By all the — what the _hells_ were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that when my boss tells me to make a run to drop off another acquisition, I do it.”

“But she’s just one girl! Sure, she’s in shape and cute, but she’s no raving beauty — an unscheduled drop-off for just _her_?”

“Maybe Nishio-san wanted to get her here before the next overseas shipment goes out, who knows? He hardly explains his reasoning to me. Now, are you going to take her, or do I take her back and explain to him how you made the entire trip a wasted risk?”

“Sure, sure, give me that invoice and the key to the handcuffs.”

Ranma stood in the corridor where she’d been left when taken out of the back of the truck that had brought her and manhandled through the loading dock and into the warehouse. She ignored the argument between the two otokodate standing beside her, eyes unfocused as she fought to keep from yanking on the handcuffs locking her hands behind her back.

She had been fine all through the process of darkening her hair color and adding a few touches of ‘permanent’ makeup that were practically invisible but subtly changed her appearance enough that she should be unrecognizable, and dressed in the modestly sexy style currently favored by college girls. She’d still been fine when she’d been handed off to the Half-Lidded Eye’s man in the otokodate and led to the truck.

But as soon as she’d been handcuffed, gagged and locked in the dark of the truck, her imagination had awoken, casting up image after image of what she might have to endure in the time between her arrival at the warehouse and the police assault. Even the nightmares she had had from time to time involving Kuno didn’t compare — now she had her master’s ‘training’ to add a level of verisimilitude that the nightmares had lacked and the scenes her mind now insisted on painting were distressingly realistic. And she had thought the trip from the slave center to the Kuno estate had been bad.

“Hey, kid!”

Jerking at the shout next to her ear, Ranma twisted around, a handcuff link snapping and sending the two halves pinging both ways down the corridor. She fell back, rolled to her feet, and fell into a stance to find herself staring at the man that had met her when she’d been removed from the truck. a wall in her mind sang like tapped crystal — not the wall she had encountered (and desperately shored up) when she had joined Kuno in his bed, but similar. The otokodate was staring back, one hand holding what looked like the biggest handgun in the world, especially the open bore of the barrel pointed straight at her. She slowly raised her hands. “Oops?” she said, putting on her best ‘helpless innocent’ look.

After a moment, the otokodate lowered his pistol slightly while chuckling and shaking his head. “I guess that’s what we get for using law enforcement surplus.” Then with a leer he added, “You’re a _really_ cute little number, aren’t you? It’s too bad you didn’t get here yesterday, a lot of guys could have used your company before the showdown with the cops, there would have been a line. What a waste.” Motioning with the gun, he continued, “Come on, let’s get you to your room.”

A few seconds later Ranma was looking around at a tiny, plain but clean room, empty except for a futon beside a steel pole set into the floor with one bracelet of another set of handcuffs locked around it. It would have been almost peaceful if not for the sound of a regular feminine moaning coming through one wall.

The otokodate used the gun to motion her toward the futon, and the steel pole and handcuffs. “Lock yourself in. There’s a chamberpot by the futon.” Pausing with his head cocked in a listening pose for a moment, he added, “Don’t let the thin wall between you and your neighbor fool you, the insulation in the outside wall and the wall to the inside is excellent — scream for help all you want, nobody outside will hear you, and you won’t bother us at all.”

“What ... what’s wrong with her?” Ranma asked in a shaky voice that was distressingly easy to fake.

“Oh, she was last night’s favorite final meal,” the otokodate said nonchalantly. “Now get locked in.”

Ranma silently did as ordered, and soon found herself alone with her moaning neighbor and a single thought burning into the forefront of her mind. _They know the cops are comin’._

/oOo\

Hanh gazed affectionately at her mistress ahead of her as the two skimmed across the rooftops of Nerima. Even as she shook her head in disapproval she had to suppress a giggle. Yes, Kodachi’s progress from spoiled brat to an aristocrat deserving of service was coming along nicely, but she wouldn’t be Kodachi if she didn’t forge her own unique path, and Hanh had to reluctantly admit that the scene at Kuno-dono’s office had been ... entertaining. When Kodachi had simultaneously insisted that she owed ‘Ranko’ a debt of honor for the way she’d treated her in the past and so wanted in on the raid while insisting with equal vehemence that the code of Bushido that Kuno-dono had dedicated his life to was so much worthless trash, its sole purpose to bind the samurai into willing servitude to the nobility, the expression on her brother’s face had been priceless.

Still, in the end he had reluctantly agreed to allow his sister to take part, impressed against his will by the strength of Kodachi’s feelings even if he had seemed uncertain as to just what those feelings were. And so the two were approaching the ‘warehouse’ where the slavers and their victims were congregated, aiming for the side of the building that offered the best hope of infiltrating before the police made their move.

/\

Kodachi grinned broadly as she landed on another roof, racing across it to leap across to the next building. _Stop that!_ she reproved herself, forcing the grin off her face. _Noble women do_ not _grin! And with Ranma facing rape if not death you have no right to be enjoying yourself!_ But she was. This was the first time since her arrival home from her binge celebration of her father’s death that she had had the freedom of the rooftops, and the light feeling of endless possibilities at her core told her that she’d been lying to herself when she’d pretended she didn’t really miss it that much.

For a brief moment, she considered taking off once Ranma was safe and the girls rescued — just disappearing into the heart of Edo and out into the Empire at large, perhaps even America. But it was only a brief thought; even after this little adventure Ranma could not afford to lose a single ally in the Kuno household. And then there was her lack of salable low-level skills — her brief stint as an assembly line whore had been thrilling, but she imagined the thrill would fade rapidly if it was all she had to look forward to night after night, just to survive. And anything else would probably be too public to avoid her brother’s hounds. It certainly wouldn’t allow her to live in the style to which she was accustomed.

Then the last rooftop loomed before her, she took the leap, and found herself tumbling and rolling to an ignoble stop.

The rooftop was already occupied, by some very familiar people.

/\

Akane turned from where she crouched in the middle of the roof, glaring at the too-familiar girl with the off-center ponytail spread out across the roof and staring at her wide-eyed. Another female, age indeterminate in current ‘ninja’ battle-garb, landed beside the Kuno sibling, but the youngest Tendo ignored her as she moved at a crouch toward perhaps her most _annoying_ nemesis. “What are _you_ doing here?” she growled at the aristocrat rising to her feet with the help of her pet ninja.

Kodachi stiffened at the tone, face going cold. She opened her mouth but paused as her retainer hastily whispered in her ear. Finally, she relaxed with a sigh, then bowed deeply to Akane. “My guard has reminded me that, as I wronged Ranma — in both forms — in seeking my own entertainment, so I wronged you. Please accept my apology for my past behavior.”

Akane gaped at the other girl, her mind whirling, searching for some angle — _any_ angle — that could explain the haughty lunatic’s humble behavior. And she _knew_ about the curse?

“So, Sugar, why the sudden change of heart?” Ukyo asked quietly as she came up alongside her former rival with the large battleaxe that had replaced her battle-spatula at the ready. “And how long have you known about Ranma’s curse?”

“More importantly, why are you here?” Genma asked as he came up on Akane’s other side.

“I’ve known almost since the beginning,” Kodachi admitted, eyes dropping. “I was ... entertaining myself at your expense while trying to embarrass my father. All in all, one of the worst decisions of my life — all I did was alienate people that could have been friends while failing miserably to get my father to so much as acknowledge me as anything but a pawn.

“As for why I’m here, I suspect for the same reason all of you are — because Ranma is inside that building, and I intend to see to it that she gets out again unharmed.”

“What! Ranma’s in — !”

Ukyo’s hand clamped down across Akane’s mouth, cutting off her shout. “Easy, no point in wasting Konatsu’s efforts making sure the roof’s clear of surveillance by letting the whole world know we’re here,” the new Saotome admonished her sister-in-law-to-be. Waiting until a fuming Akane nodded, she turned back to Kodachi. “That said, what’s Ran-chan doing in there?”

“You mean you _didn’t_ know?” a bemused Kodachi asked. The dojo contingent simultaneously shook their heads. “Then why _are_ you here?”

“We’re here because there’s a bunch of scared, abused, helpless girls down there that need rescuing from the bastards that grabbed them,” Ukyo stated firmly. “Right!” Akane agreed fiercely. Genma calmly nodded.

Kodachi stared at the three for a long moment in bemused wonder, then chuckled softly in a manner that the three found disturbingly sane. “You’re Ranma’s people, _of course_ you share his view of things,” she murmured.

“So what’s Ranma doing in there?” Akane asked again, fighting to remain calm. _Damn it, Ranma, why do you_ pull _these stunts?_

Kodachi shrugged. “One night when my brother wasn’t pleasuring her with his usual competence,” she started, shooting a look at Akane, then broke off when the other girl moaned softly, face blanching, world seeming to float as the words hammered into her. “Sorry, I didn’t ... old habits, sorry,” the aristocrat murmured, eyes dropping. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the glares Ukyo and Genma were sending her, she continued, “Anyway, Ranma asked my _dear_ brother what the problem was. He told her about the slavers and the raid he was planning, and his uncertainty of the trustworthiness of the district law enforcement. Ranma suggested — demanded, really — that he have her smuggled in before the raid without telling the police involved and he reluctantly agreed.”

“Yeah, well, your brother was right to worry,” Ukyo said as she lay a comforting hand on Akane’s shoulder. “The otokodate know they’re coming, and their orders are to kill as many police as possible, all the girls they’re holding, and then themselves.”

Kodachi and her shadow froze. “Wha — !” The aristocrat broke off her shout and tried again. “We have to go in, _now_!”

“No,” Genma instantly disagreed. “I take it you don’t know the current layout inside?” Kodachi shook her head. “There’s a limited number of places to lurk inside. That isn’t a problem for me, and certainly not for Konatsu, he’s already inside. But for Ukyo, you, and probably your shadow it would be a definite problem.

“However, the okodates’ plan doesn’t call for killing the girls until at least one assault by the police has been beaten off, so I am going in about half an hour before the police, with Ukyo going in at the same time they do. You may join her if you wish.”

“Of course,” Kodachi immediately agreed.

“Wait, you believe her! Just like that? _Why_?” Akane demanded incredulously, whirling to glare at ‘Uncle’ Genma.

“I do,” Genma replied calmly. “Her skill, while not the equal of Ranma’s, is not inconsiderable — and requires a significant level of discipline. And that discipline is incompatible with the image of the cheating, hedonistic spoiled aristocratic brat she’s presented the past several years.”

“Oh, the hedonistic part was real enough,” Kodachi said with a wry smile.

“Perhaps — but it was a tool rather than a goal, wasn’t it?”

Kodachi shrugged and changed the subject. “But you didn’t mention Akane as part of our little strike force.”

Akane blushed, her eyes dropping to the rooftop. “I’m staying here as backup,” she mumbled, then hastily added, “I might be pregnant, can’t risk the baby.”

With her eyes downcast the youngest Tendo failed to see Kodachi and her retainer stiffen and exchange glances. A moment later, she found her head being lifted by the chin, her eyes meeting those of a happily smiling Kodachi. “Does Ranma know?”

“He knows it’s possible ... it’s only been a few weeks, since just before ...” Akane’s voice trailed off, and Kodachi nodded.

“I hope you are,” the aristocrat said, “Ranma could use something to brighten her gilded cage.” Turning to Genma, she continued, “So, what’s the interior layout now?”

/oOo\

Ranma desperately wanted to pace. Lying on the thin futon her cell had come with, she once again surreptitiously checked the watch that had come with her disguise. Five minutes since the last time she’d checked, and half an hour until the police assault came roaring in — the one the otokodate thugs knew was coming.

As the temporarily not-a-redhead once again rolled onto her back, closing her eyes, the moaning from those thugs’ party favorite of the previous night picked up yet again, and Ranma yet again fought off the urge to scream at the girl, shout at her to shut up, promise to protect her, _anything_ to get rid of the sound that had haunted her for hours now, ratcheting her tension higher and higher.

“Okay, cunt, time to go.”

Ranma’s eyes shot open at the voice, then relaxed as she realized that the voice was coming through the same wall as the moaning. For a few seconds nothing changed, then Ranma jerked upright on her futon as the moans were replaced by a high throat-ripping shriek that went on and on, until two thunderclaps slammed through the wall and the scream cut off.

Ranma was on her knees, staring at the wall. _Those were gunshots! He didn’t ... didn’t ..._ But with sinking certainty she knew he had, and she jerked as her exploding rage slammed up against the same mental wall she had hit hours earlier — slammed up against it and through, and the cell walls were suddenly bathed in the red light of her normally blue battle aura. Closing her eyes, Ranma fought for control, and felt her battle aura slowly fade away.

Even as she opened her eyes, she heard the deadbolt on her door click open. She hastily twisted the wrist handcuffed to the post by her bed, sending pieces of another link pinning softly about the room even as she dove for the wall beside the door.

“Rise and shine, cunt!” the same voice from the other room called as a strange otokodate pushed the door open and stepped through, the smoking revolver in one hand leading the way. “Don’t give me any trouble like —”

He broke off at the sight of the empty futon, gaping at the broken handcuff bracelet still around the steel pole. Then the air whooshed out of his lungs as a small fist buried itself in his stomach, even as a hand closed around his hand with the gun, trapping his index finger against the trigger guard. With a jerk, he was swung around against a side wall as the door was gently kicked shut, a speared hand lanced into his diaphragm, and the gun was yanked from his hand to the crack of a snapping finger as he dropped to the floor. He tried to shriek as the pain lanced from his hand down his arm, but was unable to force his diaphragm to pull air into his empty lungs.

Ranma stared down at the thug at her feet, eyes cold. “Don’t worry,” she said quietly to the man beginning to writhe, “you’ll be able to breathe in a minute. I don’t want ya dying ‘til Kuno gets his hands on ya. An’ when they tie yer hands and feet ta the crosspiece and hoist ya up, and the hinin shove their spears through ya, I hope ya think about the girl you just killed.

“And ta make sure ya stay here ‘til the cops show up ...” She grabbed a hand by the wrist, yanked it away from where it clutched at the otokodate’s throat, locked the elbow, and the thug’s eyes bulged as with a quick blow of her elbow to his the arm abruptly flopped free in the wrong direction. The second arm quickly followed, then quick kicks shattered first one kneecap and then the other.

By the time Ranma was done, the thug had gotten enough air in his lungs for a thin shriek. The girl smiled grimly at the sound. “I doubt they’ll bother giving ya any painkillers when they tie ya up,” she said as she scooped up the revolver. “Maybe by then, you’ll scream as loud as _she_ did.” Stepping to the door, she seemed to vanish into the air as the door closed and the deadbolt locked.

/oOo\

In the alley behind the former warehouse, crouching behind the dumpster, a Kuno ninja did his best to fight the boredom of long hours and stay alert as he listened to the random bits and pieces of conversation that the vibration sensors attached to the second story window above him picked up. The sensors were tiny, practically invisible, and the wires running from the sensors down to the ninja’s keyboard were also incredibly thin, to the point that, with them taped down the way they were and so not swaying in the breeze, only the most alert person would have noticed them.

However, the listening device’s near-invisibility came with a price — it was designed for overhearing conversations within the same room, not an entire warehouse. As a result, it had only been picking up the occasional sentence fragment, incomprehensible without the surrounding conversational context, though Muraoka Jun Kee hoped that what he was forwarding on to the nearby operations center for the upcoming raid would mean more to someone there that presumably knew more about what was going on than he did.

Suddenly, Jun Kee’s reverie was cut off as two sharp barks of sound came over his earbugs. Were those gunshots? Grabbing the keyboard, he quickly bounced back twenty seconds and listened again, then hit the emergency button. “Gunshots from within the target!” he whispered urgently. “I repeat, gunshots from within the target!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historically, _hinin_ were the non-persons of Japanese society — the burakumin, ninja, beggars, entertainers, exiled criminals, survivors of suicide pacts. Theoretically they are equal before the law (killing one is now legally murder, where before the punishment was a fine), but most law enforcement isn't all that concerned with whatever happens to them. They have a role in the Japanese version of crucifixion, where the condemned are tied to the T, then hinin kill them with spears, their heads are cut off and go up on spikes for three days as a warning, and the body is kept at the jail for samurai to test their swords or swordsmanship. Whatever is left after three days is then returned to the families.


	20. Blowout

“No, my lord, you will _not_ be a part of the first wave,” Captain Kasai Morimasa stated firmly. “You may command in everything else, but not in this — as with the retainers of Yoshitsune that protected him from the archers, it is our duty to see to your protection. And we will.”

Kuno paused, mouth open to shout at the head of the lording law enforcement, then closed it with his retort unuttered and turned away with his fists clenched. After a moment he turned back and said through an angry snarl, “I understand your point and normally would agree fully, but not this time — the flower of my life is in there, waiting for my rescue, and I will be there! You _will_ obey me in this!”

But Morimasa simply shook his head. “I know how important Ranko is to you, my lord, and we will do our best to see to her safety, but she is not our sworn lord. If you wish my life it is yours, but my second will say the same, and his second. If you wish this raid to go forward, you will wait.”

Kuno was opening his mouth for another shout, when the technician that had been monitoring the communications feed from Jun Kee (and doing his best to appear to be ignoring the argument behind him) shouted, “Gunshots fired within the target! Gunshots fired within the target!”

Kuno whipped around to stare at the technician for a moment, then turned back to Morimasa to find that his retainer’s gaze hadn’t left him. “Well, my lord?” Morimasa asked quietly.

Kuno took a deep breath, then nodded jerkily. “Go, I’ll be in the next wave.”

Morimasa nodded. “See to it, Goro,” he said to his second, then as the man hurried away added to his surprised lord, “My responsibilities don’t allow me to go first, either. So, my lord, will you join me for our ride?”

/oOo\

Kodachi had expected to spend the time waiting for the police assault to go in being seriously bored, with nothing to do but wait and try to stay alert. As it turned out, it had been anything but boring, with Ukyo and Akane demanding to know every minute detail of Ranma’s time in the Kuno mansion — so long as she didn’t mention the redhead’s time in Kuno’s bed (not that _that_ had been hard, given the way Ranma had avoided the subject).

Since the only time the Kuno sister spent with Ranma was when they sparred, she hadn’t been able to give many details. Hanh had been able to do a bit better but not much, though Ukyo had been somewhat relieved to learn that her best friend had found an avid supporter in her assigned body slave.

Akane had been more suspicious, and Kodachi had readily agreed that Usagi’s attentions were perhaps motivated by more than friendship and the Juuban slave’s innate eagerness to please. “It’s Ranma,” she said to Akane with a shrug. “Something about him — and apparently her — just draws people in.” Then with a sidelong glance at Ukyo, sitting beside the youngest Tendo, she added, “But you have nothing to worry about. Even as tempted as I was to pursue Ranma for real, I could see how devoted he was to you.”

Even as Ukyo had winced slightly, Akane had relaxed, some of the suspicion she’d practically radiated since Kodachi’s arrival fading. “Good,” the youngest Tendo murmured. “I’m glad he has at least one friend in that madhouse.”

“Two, at least on my part,” Kodachi responded instantly. “But I have to say that I’m a little surprised you didn’t already know all this. I would have thought you’d have already heard it from her directly. But you didn’t — Nabiki doesn’t have an information pipeline into the mansion, does she?” she added thoughtfully when the only response was glances between a suddenly stiff Ukyo and Akane.

“No, she doesn’t.” Kodachi started as Genma’s voice came from behind her. The heavy-built martial artist walked around to kneel by the girls in front of her. “She — we — expected opening up a conduit would be simple, as insane as Kuno is and you were believed to be. But it hasn’t turned out that way. We haven’t even been able to learn how my son is doing, much less communicate with him.”

Ukyo and Akane again exchanged questioning glances, Ukyo shrugging, but Kodachi nodded, carefully ignoring her suddenly tense minder beside her. “So why hasn’t Ranma simply asked Kuno if she can visit the dojo? Or at least call?” she asked nonchalantly.

Genma stiffened as the girls gaped at the gymnast. “Ask?” Akane finally managed to get out. “But ... but Ranma’s a slave! Slaves can’t ... everyone knows that ...”

“That slaves are usually forbidden to contact their families?” Kodachi asked, staring at the stunned trio. “True, but my _esteemed_ but delusional brother thinks of his sex slave as the love of his life and willing companion rather than his sex slave, doesn’t he? If he didn’t, Ranma wouldn’t be in that warehouse right now. You ... you really didn’t think of that?”

The three shook their heads in unison, and Akane suddenly started to giggle. The giggles grew in volume, until she clapped a hand across her mouth to smother the guffaws. Fighting herself under control, she managed to gasp out, “Nabiki will never live it down — all that planning and trying and frustration, and all we had to do was _ask_ ...” She lost it again, and Ukyo joined her in doing her best to keep her own laughter from getting too loud.

Eventually, even Genma shook his head with a wry chuckle. “Well, Kuno is unlikely to listen to us, so we’ll just have to make certain Ranma gets the word when we —”

“Mistress!” Hanh hissed urgently, “shots have been fired inside the warehouse, the police are on their way right now!”

The laughter cut off and Genma rose to his feet. “All right, we’re going in now. As we planned, Kodachi, you and your bodyguard have the north side, Ukyo takes the south, and I’ll take the west in the middle where I’ll be able to respond either way if needed. Keep an eye out for Ranma — don’t forget what she looks like now — but Ranma can handle himself. Our priority is protecting the girls first and the cops second. Go!”

/oOo\

In the loading dock of what on the outside seemed like a typical warehouse and on the inside was something else entirely, a figure that appeared to be a cute teenage girl kept perfectly still where he held himself to the ceiling, his long, dark hair tucked down the back of his red ninja battle uniform to keep it from hanging down. His eyes again scanned the length and breadth of the room, before returning to the spot directly in front of the door leading into the ‘warehouse’ proper, and the heavy machinegun nest made of stacked sandbags that had been built there in the last hour. Two otokodate thugs, average build, one raven-haired the other almost blond, were sitting inside the nest, their backs against the door and their feet propped up on the sandbag wall of the nest. Konatsu was careful to keep up his Invisibility Art. It wasn’t as effective as Ranma’s and Genma’s Umisenken — it had no effect on cameras — but for these two it was more than enough.

He idly wondered just what the crimelord was thinking — testing the determination of a new lord was one thing, but the machinegun was likely to bring down the wrath of the Shogun’s people. Unless, of course, he had the backing of another of the Great Families to provide a bolthole if needed. Konatsu was just glad that he’d gotten here last in his slow sweep of the interior instead of coming this way first, before the nest had been put together.

Suddenly, two loud thunderclaps reverberated through the ‘warehouse’, and Konatsu tensed as the two thugs below shot upright from their slouched seats, whirling to stare at the door. “Those were gunshots!” the blond thug blurted out. “What’s going on in there!?”

“Only one way to find out,” the other replied, pulling a semi-automatic pistol from under his jacket and stepping up to place his back to the wall beside the door. The blond thug followed suit in the other side of the door and reached across to yank it open, while his partner swung out of Konatsu’s sight into the corridor, gun first. The blond followed, leaving the door open.

Konatsu wrestled briefly with the idea of following the two, but before he could make up his mind they were back, with another two thugs. “What an idiot!” the first dark-haired thug groused as he seated himself behind the machinegun’s grips, one of the newcomers dropping down next to him and checking the ammunition belt leading from the ammo box into the firing chamber. “I can’t believe Kenta was stupid enough to fire his gun without closing the door first! Those rooms’ soundproofing —”

“May not have made a difference, considering the cannon he carries around,” one of the newcomers broke in to say from where he crouched to the side, just outside of the machinegun nest. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there are a couple of bullet holes through the outside wall, now. Do you think he’s compensating?”

The others laughed at the suggestion, then the other newcomer patted the machinegun and said, “It doesn’t matter. Even if the cops do hear and strike early, this baby will pile them up. By the time they can bring up what they need to deal with it, we’ll have the rest of the girls moved into the cafeteria and be ready for them.”

The sound of breaking glass came from the corridor, causing the otokodate to turn and look back into the building. At the previously agreed upon signal, Konatsu released his hold on the ceiling, dropping straight down toward the four thugs now exchanging glances and shrugs. Even as they turned back toward the outside door, Konatsu’s feet smashed onto the top of the head of the leftmost thug, driving it down into the concrete floor with a sickening crack. As the body beneath him spasmed, the male kunoichi leaped lightly to the top of the sandbag nest and the drawing stroke of his wakizashi swept the head of the thug behind the machinegun from his shoulders. The otokodate beyond him had started to rise only to stagger back as the fountaining blood from the headless corpse splashed across his eyes and down his body, and Konatsu kicked him in the chest, pushing the reeling thug back over the low sandbag wall and into the last of the four. The fourth actually had a little training — he rolled with the collision, and came to his feet with the gun in his hand rising, only to encounter the wakizashi coming down. The hand with the gun bounced off the wall, the follow-up stroke looping up and around to take him across the neck.

Konatsu stepped back to avoid the collapsing body and spraying blood and grimaced as he stepped into a puddle of red, then stepped over to where the last living otokodate in the loading dock lay gasping and ran him through the chest. Looking around, the cute kunoichi grimaced again at his bloody footprints — that was going to make stealth difficult. Then the sound of gunfire came through the doorway, and he shrugged. Maybe ‘stealthy’ wasn’t that important, anymore.

Stepping over to the machinegun, he hastily removed and broke the firing pin, then quietly slipped through the door into the transshipment center.

/oOo\

Oshin Noritoshi sighed, shaking his head, as he watched Kenta step into the room next to where he had just shot the previous night’s plaything, smoke still rising from the barrel of the massive revolver in his fist. Sure, the idiot probably hadn’t changed anything, just maybe moved things up by half an hour, but still.... And while it wasn’t going to matter with this batch of new slaves, considering how beaten down and terrified they were by now, all the otokodate had been ordered to stay out of the cells unless they had backup.

Turning away to unlock the door of his own next girl, Noritoshi dismissed thoughts of the soon to be dead fool and concentrated on his own part of the job of getting the girls moved to the central cafeteria, and the other machinegun the otokodate had smuggled into the transshipment center. He opened the door and tossed the handcuff keys to the visibly shaking young woman dressed in a torn shirt and panties and chained to the post by the room’s futon. “Get yourself unlocked and come on out if you don’t want me to give you what your neighbor got,” he ordered, motioning with his own revolver. The girl hastily followed orders, and he stepped back as she scurried from the room, clutching her torn shirt to keep it closed. Passing responsibility for her off to Isamu further down the hall toward the entrance to the cafeteria, Noritoshi unlocked the next door in line.

He’d gotten the next girl out of her cell and on her way, when he realized that Kenta hadn’t rejoined him back in the hallway. Glancing up, he stiffened when he saw that the door to the room Kenta had entered was closed. He looked further up the empty hall to Kotara Daiki, the otokodate that was assigned the job of shepherding Kenta’s girls to the cafeteria, but the other man simply spread his hands and shrugged. _Don’t tell me he’s taking time for a quickie now, of all times!_ Noritoshi thought through his rising anger, and he strode down the hall. Yanking open the door, he shouted, “Kenta, get your ass out here, we don’t have time —” then broke off to gape at the sight of his fellow otokodate lying on the floor of the otherwise empty room, arms and legs all bent at odd angles. He never saw the butt of Masatake’s revolver before it smashed into his temple.

/\

Ranma ignored the body collapsing at her feet, hurling her revolver down the hallway toward the gaping thug by the doorway leading deeper into the ‘warehouse’. She charged in its wake, and the otokodate’s shout of surprise mixed with the sound of shattering glass behind and above her.

Even as the otokodate batted the gun away just before it hit him between the eyes with one hand while raising the semi-automatic he held in his other, she grabbed his gunhand by the wrist, twisted, and caught the pistol as it dropped from suddenly limp fingers when the wrist snapped like a twig. The thug sucked in a breath to scream at the sudden pain, only to choke as the hand that had broken his wrist speared into his throat.

As the otokodate stumbled back, his good hand clutching at his throat as he tried to force air through a collapsed windpipe, Ranma whirled to look back down the corridor, only to find the last otokodate in sight staring upward, arms still upraised to shield his head, several pieces of broken glass stuck in his arms and more shattered glass lying scattered around his feet. She followed his gaze, and her eyes widened at the sight of a familiar chef standing on the walkway that ran on top of the cells the girls were kept in, an unfamiliar battleaxe in her hands. _Ukyo! What is_ she _— ? Later, focus._

Turning her gaze back to the thug, Ranma made sure a round was chambered, and with two shots knocked the thug off his feet just as he was raising his revolver toward Ranma’s oldest friend.

Ukyo stared down at the dying thug she had been about to drop onto, then over at the strange auburn-haired girl that had killed him. She could swear she’d seen her somewhere before... Then she remembered what Kodachi had told them, and her jaw dropped. “Ranma? When did you learn how to use a gun?”

“Heya, Uc-chan!” Ranma called back as she waved her friend down, a broad, happy grin across her face, before refocusing her attention up and down the corridor. “Good ta see ya. Pop showed me how they work, fer when I had ta go up against one, an’ how hard can it be ta use ‘em? Ya point and squeeze. So who all is crashin’ the party?”

“Genma — Father, that is, Kodachi, and her bodyguard came in through windows off the alleyways,” Ukyo started, dropping down next to Ranma. “Akane’s out on a nearby roof as backup.”

“Pop is your — later, we got some business ta take care of, first.”

Ukyo hefted her battleaxe. “Right! Lead on, Sugar.”

Ranma’s grin turned feral. “Ya got it.”

/oOo\

Ranma and Ukyo sat on the top of the wall surrounding the cafeteria, watching the cops of the first assault wave bustling about the room cuffing the few surviving otokodate and tending to the few girls wounded when their guards had opened fire on them after Genma had gutted — literally — the four men manning the machinegun that had been set up to mow down the girls lined up against the cafeteria wall. The thugs had never imagined anything like the vacuum blades Genma had used, but the survivors had only frozen for a moment before trying to do the job themselves with their pistols. Fortunately for them, with Ranma and Ukyo coming over the wall from one side and Kodachi and Hanh leaping from the walkway over the circling corridor and down into the cafeteria from the other, the otokodate had only had time to get a few shots off before they were overwhelmed. There had been a few more thugs in the outside corridor still gathering in girls and they had killed a few, but each gunshot had pinpointed another target for the vengeful martial artists. Unlike the otokodate inside the cafeteria, most of _those_ thugs were still alive — if badly broken — and waiting for the police to collect them. All in all, the number of casualties among the kidnapped or illegally bought girls was remarkably low.

“So Mom and Pop took ya in when yer father threw ya out?” Ranma asked the girl beside her.

“No they took me in when I told my father to go fuck himself!” Ukyo growled, her face tightening. “Your ... our father said he owed me for what he did all those years ago, and offered to adopt me. After my father insisted I carry on with trying to kill the two of you, I told him off and took Father up on his offer.”

“Cool!” Ranma enthused, pulling Ukyo into a one-armed embrace. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you with your family, but I’m glad ta have a new sister.”

Ukyo returned the hug with a tremulous smile. “It wasn’t like he was much of a father to me, anyway. I would have rather been your wife, but I obviously lost that one and I’ll take what I can get.” She hesitated for a moment, then added, “Akane’s just a roof away, why don’t we spend a few minutes with her?”

“Sounds good!” Ranma said, perking up, only to deflate as a fresh wave of cops entered the cafeteria, led by the new lord of Nerima. “Damn, Lover Boy is here. If I don’t go down right away he’ll tear the place apart lookin’ for me.”

She hesitated, obviously torn, and Ukyo sighed and gently shook her shoulder. “Then you’d better get down there, we want him to concentrate on those bastards instead of you, for now. But listen, when you get the chance, ask Kuno to let you visit the dojo. It was Kodachi’s idea, ask her for the details.”

Ranma nodded, gave Ukyo another one-armed hug, then dropped down into the cafeteria while his new sister rose to her feet, jumped across the outer corridor to the walkway, then slipped out the second story window to join the rest of the Tendo raiding party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know, not exactly a humorous situation. But Saotomes and Tendos have been living with this for weeks now, and gallows humor comes out in the oddest ways. And yes, they missed the obvious. But then, they were thinking of Kuno as The Enemy rather than as a delusional lunatic, or at least not completely thinking through what that means.


	21. Cleanup Duty

Sailor Pluto watched as the last of the massacre at the transshipment point played out in the Time Gates before her. With a sigh of relief, she released her control and the Gates returned to their normal multi-colored staticy collection of images from the past, present, and all possible futures mixing together, each scene in the mix lasting only a few seconds before giving way to another.

Turning away, the Senshi of Time took a few moments to put on her inscrutable all-knowing persona, then _stepped_ through to the comfortable living room of the Hinako Shrine. “You can relax, we won’t be needed,” she said calmly, hiding her smirk as three faces whipped around to look at her.

“Good!” Sailor Mars growled as she relaxed back into her seat. “I’m getting tired of helping that bastard!”

“He is not!” Sailor Jupiter disagreed vehemently.

Mars sneered. “Yeah, buying a fourteen year old sex slave — why you defend that perverted rapist is beyond me after what he did to you.”

Jupiter jerked to her feet, hands curling into fists. “It was _my_ choice to be sold as a full use slave after my parents’ deaths made me the only one responsible for the family debt, and he was only sixteen when he bought me — it could have been some _real_ pervert, some middle-aged man that enjoyed abusing young girls!”

Now Mars was on her feet, face to face with her angry teammate. “And I suppose you were happy and eager every time he ordered you into his bed!”

Jupiter was opening her mouth for a shouted rebuttal, when a fresh voice broke in. “Cool it, you two, you’re both half right,” Sailor Uranus said calmly. “Sex slaves don’t exactly have the right to refuse their masters’ demands, and being sold as a sex slave was Jupiter’s choice and she could have done a lot worse when it came to masters.

“That said,” the short-haired blonde continued, turning to Pluto, “Mars’s other point is a good one — after what the Kunos did to Juuban, and our friends and their families, acting as unofficial Kuno security doesn’t exactly thrill me, either. Are they that important to the future?”

Pluto smiled inscrutably, knowing even as she did that Uranus, at least, wasn’t fooled in the slightest, not after she and her lover had shortstopped Pluto’s self-hating pityfest three weeks before with a night of hot sex, followed by being woken up by a happy Hotaru. There had been a couple of other evenings and nights with the two Outers and future Outer since, and she still wasn’t sure how she felt about it — she’d spent literally millennia avoiding any possibility of having hostages to fortune, but she had found a part of her soul that she’d forgotten existed rejoicing at the time spent with the other three and had finally decided to simply let this part of her life develop as it would. She hadn’t even examined its future in the Time Gates and found that lack of knowledge exhilarating (not to mention a little frightening).

Realizing that the others were still waiting for an answer, she replied in her normal distant calm, “Who ever said we’re protecting the Kunos?” And with that, Pluto _stepped_ out of the room while the other three senshi were still gaping at her.

Back at the Time Gates, she laughed until she cried, and ignored the hint of hysteria in the sound. Finally bringing herself under control, the normally regal woman wiped at her face and mildly cursed before _stepping_ out to her personal washroom in her office suite. She had to look her imperious best for her next stop.

/oOo\

In a room at the Masaki shrine that had been set aside for practice in the Art of the Sword, a middle-aged woman, her auburn hair tied back at the base of her neck, desperately shifted her bokken across her body as she twisted to the side, striving to hold off the lightning-fast assault of the elderly man facing her.

“Good, good, very good,” her ancient instructor murmured as his own slashing bokken hammered his student’s back against her side before she managed to twist it and slide his own harmlessly past her. He stepped back and let the younger woman bring her bokken back up to guard as she gasped for breath. “You let yourself get badly out of position and that move would get you laughed off any tournament floor, but it worked — and when the fighting’s for real that’s what counts. Now —”

Nodoka stiffened when her sensei abruptly broke off, his normally gentle gaze hardening even as it seemed to turn inward. After a moment his eyes again focused on his student. “Break,” he said, and returned her fatigue-shaky bow. “Now, practice the kata I showed you this morning. I must check out something, I will return as soon as I can,” Katsuhito told her quietly, then quickly strode from the room.

/\

Katsuhito stepped into the clearing where he’d met the Senshi of Time three weeks earlier, unsurprised to again find the same fuku-clad woman waiting. “So the Time Spider returns,” he said coldly. “What do you want this time?”

Pluto gazed serenely at him for a long moment, then asked, “How is your student coming along?”

Katsuhito folded his arms, an eyebrow rising. “You haven’t been watching?”

“Certainly I’ve been checking in from time to time,” Pluto replied with a shrug. “But I am no swordswoman, to judge her progress just from what I see.”

“I see.” Katsuhito frowned thoughtfully. “Actually, she has been doing very well, considering that she knew nothing when she arrived. She is certainly determined enough — she has been working herself into exhaustion daily since her arrival. But she is nowhere near ready for actual combat.”

Pluto sighed, and Katsuhito’s eyes widened slightly as he seemed to catch a hint of regret in her normally expressionless face. “We aren’t going to have the luxury of allowing her the time to get much better,” the senshi responded, “things are coming to a head in Nerima. She has one more week at most before she needs to return.”

“And her odds of surviving the coming battle?” Katsuhito inquired.

“Fifty-fifty,” Pluto responded instantly. “But if she isn’t there, the odds of anyone at the Tendo dojo surviving drop considerably.”

The Juraian noble gazed expressionlessly at her for a time, then finally nodded. “Very well, I will tell Nodoka what you have told me and let her make the choice.”

“And do you have any doubts how she will choose?”

“No ... no, I don’t. It seems you will have another piece to remove from the board.” With that, the old man turned and stalked out of the clearing.

Pluto watched him leave, then murmured, “I hope not, Ranma’s going to have a hard enough time recovering as it is, if he lives.”

/oOo\

Inaba Ryota snarled as he reviewed the latest reports his corrupt police in the Nerima district were sending him. His little test of the new lordling had _not_ turned out the way he’d expected, or even feared.

_Most of the girls at the transshipment point live,_ he thought. _Likewise all of the girls at the brothels that were raided at the same time, because I couldn’t pull out most of the guards and slaves there out without revealing that I knew the raids were coming. And the point of leaving them there was completely missed, all because those_ martial artists _got involved!_

In truth, it was that involvement by the Neriman martial arts community that most concerned him. The girls could be replaced easily enough, and the otokodate he’d lost with only somewhat more difficulty — there were always plenty of young men desperate for a chance to get out of the gutter. Furnishing the new brothels would actually be the most difficult task, and if the martial artists that had broken up his ambush were a portent for the future rather than a fluke, it would have to be somewhere other than Nerima. Considering that according to one of his bought and paid for cops, two of the martial artists had been the new lord’s sister and newest full use slave, it wasn’t likely to be a fluke.

Inaba had been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed the flashing button signaling an incoming call from his secretary. It was only when the secondary soft chime sounded that he was jerked out of his ruminations. Scowling, he pressed the button for acceptance. “Yes, Kun Hee?” he growled as the viewscreen lit up to show the gorgeous face of his highly skilled secretary (in bed and out).

“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but Sugiyama-san and Enoki-san are here to see you,” she replied nervously.

His anger vanished like a snuffed out candle, instantly replaced by nervous dread — he doubted that things had turned out as Gendo had expected, either. Straightening in his seat, he nodded. “Send them in,” he ordered.

A few seconds later the door to his office opened and Sugiyama Chojiro stepped in. Behind him, Inaba could see his partner lounging in one of the chairs in his waiting room. Enoki Ren waved genially just before the door closed.

Standing, Inaba waved his guest to one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Welcome,” he said. “Would you like some refreshments, something to drink?” Sugiyama shook his head as he sat, and Inaba resumed his own seat behind the desk. “So what is so important that Ikari-dono sent you over without letting me know you were coming?” he asked.

“It’s because of the police raid in Nerima,” Sugiyama replied. “Ikari-dono sent us with a message to give you.” Reaching a gloved hand up underneath his jacket, he pulled out a semi-automatic pistol with a silencer attached to the end of the barrel. Even as Inaba lunged to his feet, hand yanking open a desk drawer, the gun coughed twice and the shots hammered him back into his chair. Tipping back, the chair spilled the corpse onto the floor.

Rising to his feet, Sugiyama stepped around the desk and laid the smoking pistol on the desk top, then pulled a memory stick from his pocket. He plugged it into a slot in Inaba’s desk computer, waited until a prompt asking for a password came up on the screen, typed quickly, waited again until a ‘task completed’ prompt flashed, pulled the memory stick out of the slot and strode toward the door, leaving the pistol behind.

/\

Pyo Kun Hee was so riveted by the story being spun by the friendly, open-faced security guard sharing the outer office with her about his time in the Chinese fringe provinces that she almost chose to ignore the odd sounds coming from her master’s office. But they were so different from even the sounds when one of his more desperate female ‘clients’ visited.... Sighing, she turned back toward the welcome diversion from her normal boring routine. “My pardon, Ren-kun, but —” She broke off, stunned at the sight of the silenced pistol in his gloved hand. The gun coughed once, and her head slammed back as the bullet striking between her wide eyes splattered blood, brains and bone fragments over the wall behind her before her chair’s recoil deposited her on her desk.

A few minutes later, Sugiyama stepped through the office door. His gaze swept the outer office, pausing for a moment on the secretary’s corpse sprawled across her desk in a spreading pool of red. “Good,” he said nonchalantly. “The memory wipe’s under way, let’s go.” Enoki nodded, placed his pistol onto the desk top beside his victim, and the two quietly left the office, locking the door behind them.

/oOo\

Ikari Gendo finished reading the report of Inaba’s successful assassination and leaned back in his chair. _Good, that takes care of one loose end that might be traced back to us._ Dismissing the dead crimelord from his thoughts, he returned to what he’d been considering before the report’s arrival in his inbox — Katsuragi Misato’s speculation about why Kuno had used the Nerima Lording police force instead of his own household security for such a sensitive operation when he obviously didn’t trust it. If that delusional fool had trusted his own people, he would have told them about smuggling Ranma in beforehand — if only to avoid the possibility of the girl he was fixated on being shot by his own police when they broke in.

Finally, he sighed, straightened, and brought up his desk’s phone function. A moment later, his desk’s viewscreen lit up to show his raven-haired head of operations. “Katsuragi, I have concluded that your ideas have merit,” he said without preamble. “Your suggested plans to keep the Kuno security forces spread thin are approved. But don’t get overeager, even with the mansion security handled only by the Kuno Family ninjas its defenses are formidable — the strike team is to go in _only_ when those defenses have been weakened somehow.”

Katsuragi dipped her head in a viewscreen bow. “Yes, my lord,” she responded.

Gendo broke off the connection and again leaned back in his chair. He stared at the wall, the lack of expression on his face at odds with the cold fury boiling in his eyes. _Soon ... soon this untried fool will give us the opportunity we need, and all the pain the Kunos have inflicted on Yui will be repaid with interest. Soon ..._


	22. Heavier than a Mountain

Ranma, Kodachi and Hanh rose from their unpadded benches as Kuno walked through the door of the waiting room at the Nerima Lording Law Enforcement Headquarters. the Kuno sister’s ninja minder bowed deeply, while Kodachi scowled at her brother as she rubbed her backside. “So, you finally found the time to visit, big brother,” she said crossly. “Remembered the minor nuisance you had stashed away?”

Kuno froze for a moment with offended pride, then swallowed his instinctive response. “My apologies,” he said stiffly instead, “but I have been busy reviewing the outcomes of the other raids and wished to speak with you before you returned to our domicile.” He paused for a long moment, then forced himself to relax as he continued, “Kodachi, you did very well. Hanh informed me that there are at least four girls, perhaps more, that almost certainly owe you their lives — both because of your fighting skills and the first aid you provided until the police were able to assume their rightful role.”

Kodachi considered her brother for a moment, eyes widening in surprise at the compliment, then pasted on a mocking smile. “Well, thank you, you are too kind! So, do I get a reward?”

Kuno nodded. “Yes, you do. I am not yet sufficiently convinced of your reformation to allow you to leave the mansion grounds, but I have decided that the reports I have received and your performance this afternoon warrant permitting you more than leaving the mansion only to feed” — his face twisted in distaste — “Greenturtle. From here on you will be permitted the freedom of the estate’s bounteous grounds, including access to your greenhouse.”

Kodachi stared in shock, all levity vanished, and blinked to fight back the tears she felt prickling behind her eyelids. “Thank —” She broke off, cleared her throat, and tried again. “Thank you. While our servants do their best and are certainly skilled enough for the gardens, many of my babies require special care to thrive. I’ve worried.”

“No thanks are needed — with your own exertions in our common cause, you have amply earned your reward. And now, why don’t the three of you return to our mutual domicile? I will be occupied with seeing justice done the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, but there is no need for you to remain here,” he added, glancing at his disguised slave.

Kodachi nodded as Hanh again bowed, and the two started toward the door only to pause and turn when Ranma spoke up. “You two go on, I’m stayin’.”

“Ranko —” Kodachi started, only to break off at Ranma’s flat stare. The auburn-haired girl turned back to her master. “Unless ya order me ta leave, I’m gonna watch the trials and executions — I owe it ta some dead girls ta see off their killers.”

Kuno gazed levelly at her for a few moments, but when her own gaze didn’t waver he sighed and bowed respectfully. “As honorable as you are valiant, as always. It will be as you say.”

/oOo\

The Master of Servants, dressed in his full butler regalia, was performing an age-old ritual, cleaning the silverware by hand. He had found over the years that the simple job was a fine time to reflect on his many concerns, his mind shifting from problem to problem as his hands went about their task. As a result, he had long since given orders that at such times he was only to be disturbed for emergencies or his explicit previous instructions. Like now.

He started at the gentle knock on the door, then lay down the spoon he had been looking over for imperfections. “Yes?” he called out.

“My pardon for the interruption, sensei, but you wished to be informed when Hanh and the Mistress returned. They are back, and Hanh is here to give her report.”

Pyo sighed, reluctantly looking over the stacks of silverware he hadn’t yet gotten to, then replied, “Very well, I will be out in a few minutes.”

/\

Hanh turned from the window she’d been looking out of and bowed deeply when Pyo entered the room. He returned her bow, then waved her to a nearby chair and took a seat. “So, Hanh how did it go?” he asked genially.

“It went well, Pyo-sensei — very well,” she replied, “much better than it might have.” She gave a quick rundown of the raid.

Pyo was frowning as she finished with the meeting between Kodachi and her brother. “So, you and Kodachi performed credibly, but if it hadn’t been for the intervention of the Saotome contingent it would have been a bloodbath. Would you say that is a fair assessment?” he asked.

Hanh nodded firmly. “Absolutely,” she replied. “Between the kunoichi that snuck in before the fighting started and the samurai coming in through windows on three out of four sides of the building, the otokodate were taken completely by surprise and had threats coming from too many directions at once. They lost the initiative at the beginning and never came close to recovering it.”

After considering her statement for a time, Pyo nodded. “Very well, now I am sure you are eager to seek out your own bathing before returning to your post at our Mistress’s side. Write up a report of your impressions of each of the Saotome combatants after your shift watching over Kodachi-sama is complete.”

“Uhm, Pyo-sensei, am I the right person to continue this assignment?” Hanh asked hesitantly. “With Kodachi-sama regaining access to her greenhouse and the chemistry lab she has there, wouldn’t Chin Ru be a better choice?”

“You are right,” Pyo agreed with an approving nod. “With her college degree in chemistry and hobby of studying rare herbs, she is definitely the woman for the job. Unfortunately, she is on assignment and won’t be back for several weeks. There is no one else available before then that is more qualified than you, so you will simply have to do your best until then.”

Hanh bowed and turned to leave, then paused. After a moment, without turning around she softly said, “Pyo-sensei, there is one more thing. While Kodachi-sama was talking with the Tendo contingent before the first shots were fired, Akane mentioned that she might be pregnant.”

Pyo froze. “Pregnant,” he repeated.

“Yes. She doesn’t know, she said it had only been a few weeks — at this point it is simply a hope. Also, when they expressed their frustration at the lack of news about how Ranma is doing, Kodachi-sama suggested that Ranma ask Kuno-dono for permission to visit the Tendo dojo.”

“I see ...” Pyo slowly said. “So Nabiki has failed to gain any eyes and ears within the mansion, but they will soon be able to conspire together directly. Thank you for the report.” Hanh nodded and quickly left.

The Master of Servants stared at the empty doorway she had passed through for a time, considering her report on the raid, then turned his thoughts to the postscript. _Maybe pregnant. This is bad, very bad. If she is, when Kuno-dono learns of it the result is going to be ugly. The Saotomes will not respond well to whatever he orders, and they are as good as the best I have, even better in Genma’s case. At least the boys they’ve recruited to help in their assaults on the slave auction viewscreen have only begun their training. I wonder if Nabiki believes that her attempt to hide them in Genma’s classes has worked? And then there’s that report of Xian Pu being seen entering the dojo grounds in her cat form on occasion, if the Chinese Amazons are also involved ... this bears some consideration._

And an outwardly unchanged man returned to a task that was suddenly not at relaxing as it had been.

/\

Normally, when one of the Family ninjas appeared oblivious to all around him, he was simply practicing the ancient art of exercising constant vigilance while appearing to be one of the common herd. But this time, Hanh truly did move through the mansion on the way to the dorm room she shared with other low-level ninjas in an oblivious daze, her mind focused inward. On keeping the contents of her stomach _inside_ her stomach, mainly.

Reaching her destination, she mechanically stripped out of her sweaty... and somewhat bloody ... battle garb and grabbed her bathing supplies, grateful that the dorm, and its attached shower stalls, was empty at this time of day.

 _I did the right thing,_ she insisted to herself as she lathered up, the warm water pouring down on her failing to loosen tense muscles. _I am sworn to the service of Kuno-dono, and Pyo-sensei as his chosen servant. Pyo-sensei needed to know everything I learned about the Saotomes for us to fulfill our oaths to our sworn lord. As praiseworthy as Ranma and Kodachi are, they are not who I owe my duty to._

But she wasn’t feeling the warm glow that had always come before from honorable service — instead she was feeling a cold, sinking sensation, as if she had betrayed her honor beyond redemption. She leaned her head against the shower wall and fought her body’s attempt at dry heaves as the warm water cascaded down her back. For the first time in her life, she truly understood the old adage about duty being heavier than a mountain.

/oOo\

“Guilty,” Kuno firmly pronounced, and the row of otokodate kneeling before him blanched. Most of them managed to stiffly retain their dignity, but several of them swayed in place and two fell over in a faint. Though in the case of one of the fainters, it could well have been because of his injuries — he had been one of those subdued by the Saotomes, and those samurai had not been gentle. _But at least he took his battering in fair combat,_ Kuno thought in passing. _The Christians may be the next thing to traitors to the emperor, but they have had some positive effect — such as removing the requirement of a confession for a guilty verdict._

Ignoring the men he had just simultaneously convicted and sentenced to death, he turned to the police officer in charge of the patrolmen guarding the prisoners. “Take them and add them to the rest for transport to the Field.” The officer nodded to his men, and they stepped forward to prod the men to their feet as Kuno rose and strode from the room. As he passed her, the flame-haired sun in his sky straightened from where she’d been leaning against the wall by the door and followed him.

“Ranko, you have seen justice done, will you not return to our place of refuge from this world of care for your well deserved rest while I finish this?” Kuno quietly asked.

But his slave shook her head. “No. I’ve seen justice declared, but not carried out. Unless ya order me ta go back, I’m stickin’ it out,” she insisted.

He briefly considered it, but with a glance at her set, stony expression abandoned his protests. “Very well, then let us move on to the Field,” he said resignedly. “Even now these animals that have by their actions proven themselves unfit for life are being removed there, and the executioners but await our presence.”

/\

Kuno stepped out of the limousine, nodding to the patrolman holding open the door, then turned to offer his hand to Ranko. She rolled her eyes, but accepted the help out.

The two walked onto the Field, and Ranko’s eyes hardened at the sight of the rows of poles waiting for the prisoners to be lifted up by the crosspieces. Kuno looked over to the side where police vans were pulling up, the first disgorging its load of prisoners. “Forgive me, but I wish to speak privately to the policeman in charge,” he murmured to his slave. “Please, wait here, and I will return momentarily.”

Ranko nodded, eyes remaining fixed to the poles, and Kuno strode over to the highest ranking officer and glanced at the name on his badge. “Officer Abukara, did you receive the instructions I gave back at the court as to the order of execution?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, my lord,” Abukara responded, bowing. “The condemned prisoners from the transshipment point are to be executed first.”

“Excellent,” Kuno responded in satisfaction, then sighed. “Very well, let us get this horror over with.”

He returned to Ranko’s side but she failed to notice, her eyes locked on the first group of condemned being ushered onto the Field. A number of the men were being assisted by others, and one was being carried on a stretcher. Hinin, nonpersons by law through fate or choice, took over from the police, who fell back to the Field’s edge. The hinin quickly singled out the otokodate one at a time, tying their forearms to separate crosspieces and hoisting them up to the tops of the upright poles and tying their legs in place. Most of the otokodate kept themselves under control as they were lifted up and tied to the crosses, but some — especially the ones that had been assisted onto the Field — broke down sobbing. The one on the stretcher _shrieked_ as he was brusquely pulled from where he lay and hoisted up, scream after scream ripping from his throat before he abruptly slumped, unconscious. Ranko shifted, and Kuno glanced down and shivered at the sight of eyes flaming with furious satisfaction in an expressionless face.

While most of the hinin had been carrying out the task of lashing the otokodate to the crosses, the three largest had approached the police, who had handed each a heavy spear. Those three now approached the first otokodate to be hoisted up and without hesitation slammed their spears up under his ribcage. They twisted the shafts as they pulled the barbed spear blades free, and blood gushed out from the corpse’s eviscerated chest to run down its stomach and along its legs and spill to the ground.

Feeling queasy, Kuno turned from the sight to focus on his love. She was so focused on the execution that she failed to sense his gaze, and he found the mixture of nausea and satisfaction on her face almost as disturbing as the bloodletting causing it. But as the hinin moved down the line, he was pleased to see the satisfaction fading. Once it did flare up, and he quickly looked up to find that the executioners had reached the otokodate who had been so badly injured that the pain had rendered him unconscious. There was a story there, but he quickly decided he didn’t want to know. But that was the only time that her satisfaction flared, and it soon faded out entirely.

As the last of the first group was dying, he leaned down to a now pale girl obviously struggling to control her stomach to murmur too low for anyone else to hear, “My life, these were all the survivors from the raid at the warehouse, and the only ones responsible for the deaths of innocents in this day’s work. You have honored the memories of the girls they helped kill, but surely there is no point in you remaining here longer.”

“Are ya stayin’?”

“Yes, I have chosen to take on the responsibility of beheading the corpses so that the heads may be put on display. But there is no need for you to stay to watch, your honor has been served. Go home, refresh yourself, seek some distraction from the history of this day, and I shall see you tonight when we can seek forgetfulness together.”

For a moment Ranma hesitated, but she finally nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll head home.” Kuno waved over one of the ninja that had accompanied him as bodyguards. The masked and battlegarbed figure approached, and upon receiving his instructions bowed slightly to Ranma and silently motioned toward the limousine parked at the edge of the road.

Ranma turned to follow, but paused for a moment and turned back. “Tatewaki-dono,” she started hesitantly, “I’ve been ... treated well ... at the mansion, but I’ve missed my friends and didn’t really get a chance ta spend much time with ‘em today.” She paused again, took a deep breath, then finished in a rush, “Can I go see ‘em tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Kuno instantly replied, “how could I deny you the company of those closest to you?”

A brilliant smile flashed across her face, and she bowed. “Thank you,” she said, and turned again to follow the patiently waiting ninja.

Kuno watched her go. _I wonder if that was wise?_ he thought. _She has truly flowered, her love for me growing daily as we together train in the ancient and noble Art of the Sword and revel in our mutual pleasure, but the dojo was the center of the foul wizard’s influence. Even with him gone, it may yet linger._ He briefly considered sending a ninja with her to keep an eye out for the Enemy’s corrupting presence, but discarded the idea — her progress had been so great, surely it could not be undone in a few hours! Any backsliding would quickly be made good as they reached for ever greater heights of intimacy.

Then Ranko was climbing into the limo, the door shut, and Kuno turned away with a sigh as he drew his katana.

/oOo\

Ranma, her hair back to its vibrant red and the permanent makeup that had subtly changed the shape of her face removed, strode through the extravagant wealth of the Kuno mansion toward the living quarters that for the first time since her arrival weeks before felt like a refuge — a refuge she desperately wanted after the blood and horror of the day.

Finally reaching her destination, she stepped through the door into the mix of understated elegance and lived-in feel of Kuno’s suite. Her blonde body slave looked up from across the room where she was curled up in a chair with a book in her hands, and a split second later the book hit the floor as Usagi threw herself out of the chair toward her assigned mistress. “Ranma, you’re home!” the younger girl cried out, just before her feet got tangled up with each other and her rush to embrace Ranma turned into a dive.

Ranma threw herself forward and managed to intercept Usagi just before she slammed face first into the hardwood floor, the two spinning around into a roll across the floor that ended with them bumping up against the wall. For a few moments they just lay there, before Ranma sat up. “Usagi, you okay?” she asked anxiously.

“Y-yes, I’m f-f-fine,” Usagi assured her, sniffling a little.

“If you’re sure ... I thought I’d gotten ya past that klutziness,” Ranma replied, eyeing her companion carefully. “So if you’re alright, why’re ya all teary-eyed?”

“I ... it’s just ... I ... I was so _scared_!” Usagi wailed, throwing herself into Ranma’s lap and clutching at her. “You went into that hellhole, and the raid was _hours_ ago and it’s all over the news and there wasn’t any word of what happened to you and ... and ...”

“Shhhh ... easy, nothin’ happened ta me,” Ranma reassured the weepy girl, gently rubbing her back. “Didn’t Kodachi tell you? She got back hours ago.”

“No, she didn’t. But ... are you sure you’re okay? If she’s been back for hours, why weren’t you?”

Ranma shrugged. “I stayed to watch the trials and executions,” she said with a nonchalance that sounded forced even to her.

Usagi leaned back to stare at her mistress. “The _executions_? Why!?”

“Because ... because I ... I owed ...” An hours-old ghost of a throat-wrenching scream from a girl she never saw and the gunshots that killed her again echoed through Ranma’s mind, and she suddenly found herself clutching at her young friend as she broke down into gut-wrenching sobs.

For a moment Usagi froze at the abrupt turnabout of roles, then shifted out of Ranma’s lap and pulled the redhead into her own. Reaching up to gently pull her mistress’s head against her shoulder with one hand, she rubbed at Ranma’s back with the other in imitation of her own comforting a few minutes earlier. As she rocked the older girl, she murmured, “Shhh, it’s all right, everything will be all right, you’ll see, a bath, a good night’s sleep, you’ll be okay....”

For long minute after long minute, the slave continued to rock her mourning mistress as her back muscles began to quiver from the strain of holding the two upright and her legs started to tingle, until the sobs died down to sniffles and the tears ceased to roll down Ranma’s cheeks. When Usagi finally felt the girl relax into her embrace, she slowly stopped rocking, her voice falling silent, and simply sat there. Finally, she softly whispered, “Tell me about it later. For now, why don’t we get you a snack, spend some time in the furo, then a nap before the master gets home?”

Ranma nodded into her unofficial slave’s shoulder even as her stomach rumbled. Wincing at the giggle that forced its way out, she pulled back to look Usagi in the eye and with a tremulous smile she replied, “Sounds good. And Usagi ... thank you, for being here, for being you, for helping make these last few weeks bearable, for ... everything.”


	23. Awakening from the Dream

“It’s not fair! I finally get you to try this out, and already you’re beating me,” a pouting Usagi complained as the fighter she’d been controlling on the flatscreen built into the wall smashed into a pillar and collapsed to the brick-covered ground, the English letters “K.O.” flashing onto the screen. (The fact that the fighter was a short, busty, redheaded girl was just a coincidence, really.)

Ranma shrugged. “That’s ‘cause ya just scream an’ charge,” she responded nonchalantly. “Besides, it’s fightin’, and I know fightin’. Sure, the number a’ moves are limited and these guys are pathetic weaklings, but I gotta admit that it does force ya ta compete on an even playing field that ya almost never get in real life, and tactical thinkin’ still works. This is actually pretty cool.” Glancing sidelong at her body slave and friend, she added, “But I gotta say I’m surprised — ya aren’t the kinda person I’d expect ta be playin’ games like this, an’ ya haven’t before.”

It was Usagi’s turn to shrug. “I used to play them with Makoto, before she was freed,” she said with a slight hitch in her voice.

Ranma’s gaze sharpened, and she reached up to lay a hand on the other girl’s shoulder. “Ya miss her, don’t ya?”

“Yes, I do,” Usagi replied softly. “I’m sure she’s happier now that she’s free — she never complained and had nothing but good to say about how Kuno-dono treated her, especially in bed, but she ... she was my age and from home, and we could —” The blonde girl broke off as the two heard the door to the suite open, and they hastily put down their controllers and rose to hasten into the next room.

There they found their master, standing in the open doorway, face drawn. He looked over at the two slaves and his eyes brightened, but not enough to banish the ghosts of the day’s horror hiding in them. The girls exchanged glances, and as one hurried over to him, Usagi bowing as Ranma took him by the arm. “Welcome home, Master,” the redhead said softly. “It’s done?”

“Yes,” he replied shortly with a jerky nod. “All the executions are over, the heads cut off and up on their spikes, and the bodies in storage waiting to be returned to any families we can locate or come in on their own. I do not expect many to be thus claimed before the week is up and we dispose of the remainder in a shared unmarked grave.”

Ranma closed her eyes, sucking in a half satisfied, half horrified breath, then asked, “This is probably a stupid question, but have ya eaten?”

“No ... no, I have not,” he replied, sounding surprised.

“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do,” Ranma said firmly. “Usagi, get the Master a full supper that can be eaten while in the furo, then bring it inta the bathroom when it arrives.” Usagi nodded and hurried off toward the communications panel to call the kitchen. “While she’s waitin’,” Ranma continued, turning to Tatewaki, “ _you_ are gonna get yerself inta the bathroom and strip, and just this once I’ll scrub ya down instead a’ Usagi. Then we’re gonna get in the furo and you’re gonna eat while we soak, an’ then ... we go ta bed and forget the day.”

“As my Mistress commands,” Tatewaki intoned with a slight grin, and Ranma released his arm to gently punch him on the shoulder.

“I’m yer slave, not yer mistress, and don’t ya forget it,” she growled, but this time the growl lacked some of the heat similar comments had held before and Tatewaki’s grin broadened.

“Of course you are,” he murmured.

/oOo\

In the dim light of Tatewaki’s bedroom, Ranma’s body lay stretched along her master’s torso, naked except for her slave chain once again clasped around her neck, her oversized breasts pressed against his firm stomach. Her head bobbed, his engorged manhood sliding in an out between her lips from where the back of his cockhead bumped against the inside of her lips to where the tip bumped against the back of her mouth, her hand surrounding the lower stretch unable to fit between her lips and pumping in time with her head’s bobbing.

The redhead’s hips were raised up, her knees on either side of her master’s chest, giving Tatewaki a close-up view of her red-furred mound and reddened, engorged, dripping folds — at least, as much of the view as wasn’t blocked by his hand. The moan around his cock forced out of her by the sensations caused by his fingers plunging into her sheath as deep as they could reach caused the lord of Nerima to groan, shivering.

The shivering stopped as the tall lord tensed and tried to shove his cock up into its warm, wet home only to have Ranma lift her head enough to make sure that she wouldn’t choke as she hastily swallowed to make room for spurt after spurt of her master’s seed filling her mouth. As the flood ceased, the slave ran her tongue around the softening cock as she raised her head, licking it clean, then lifted herself upright. She paused for a moment, eyes falling closed, to luxuriate in the pleasure of the fingers still plunging into her depths, then swung a leg across above Tatewaki’s head and over the edge of the bed, causing the fingers coated with her juices to pop free.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Ranma picked up the glass of lemon-flavored water sitting on the stand a few feet away (carefully _not_ against the bed’s edge to avoid having it knocked over in their ‘play’), and quickly drank half the glass, swished a few mouthfuls around her mouth, then drank the rest. She carefully suppressed a sigh of relief at having that taste cleaned off her tastebuds, and wished yet again that she had someone else she could talk to about sex. Her first few blowjobs had convinced her that as little as she cared for the taste that came with her master coming in her mouth, she cared even less for having his seed sprayed across her face and chest and getting in her hair. She just wondered if other girls actually _liked_ the flavor, or if they were just all very good at faking it like she did. She _really_ wanted to know before she got her curse unlocked and returned to Akane. ( _If that ever happens_ , a voice whispered in the back of her mind, but she again pushed the thought away.)

Putting down the glass, she smiled as she glanced down at the contented face of her still-reclining master. She reached over to his groin without bothering to look, grasping his cock and, as expected, found it already regaining its usual length and hardness when aroused. “As eager as ever,” she observed cheerfully. “Feeling better?”

“How could I feel anything but pleasure at the sight of my smiling flower?” he replied solemnly, then returned her smile.

“Oh, flower, now, is it?” the red-haired slave said, her smile broadening into a grin. “Then let me introduce your stamen to my petals.” (Yes, she had been doing a little research to try to come up with a few lines to match his over-the-top flowery eloquence, and at last she’d had the chance to slip one of them in!) She slid along the bed and swung a leg over his legs to kneel over his groin, still smiling down at him, eyes fixed on his. Using a hand to position his cockhead at her entrance while the other hand clutched at a breast, she slowly lowered her body down, sighing as his cock sank into the hot wetness of her depths. When she bottomed out, her damp, trimmed pubic hair pressed against his own pubic curls, she paused for a moment and shivered before lifting her now free hand to grasp her other breast. Her thumbs rubbed across her crinkled-tight nipples as she began to bounce on the pole filling her sheath. (She had learned that if she used this position without supporting her generous mounds in some way, they would be sore later.) Tatewaki reached down to grip the sides of her hips to help add impetus to the rhythm even as his own hips began to thrust upward to meet hers dropping down, and she threw her head back with a low moan between her first gasps.

As she continued to lift and drop, her mind fuzzing out from the now-familiar rising tide of pleasure the exercise brought, Ranma found herself distracted — there was something off, something wrong. Puzzled, she tried to focus, examining what they were doing, what she was feeling. There was nothing unusual in tonight’s routine, they had mutually decided without saying a word to each other to skip the experimentation for a night and stick to the tried and true basic moves he had taught her the first few times they’d had sex. Nor was there anything new in the sensations bouncing through her body and exploding in her mind with each drop-and-thrust. But something was off....

And then she froze in mid-bounce as her eyes flew open to stare unseeing at the ceiling: it wasn’t that something had been added, but that something was _missing_ — the mental wall that had sealed off her natural appetites, that allowed her to enjoy her time in bed with her master, it was gone! Unmoving, her attention seemed to race from one corner of her mind to the other desperately seeking the Barrier she had had to reinforce so desperately that first night and after, and the disgust and revulsion that had hammered against it, and found ... nothing. Not so much as a hint of either her true feelings or the barrier that had protected her from them remained.

“My love, what is wrong? What disturbs you at such a time?” her master asked, concern in his voice, and Ranma forced a smile as she looked down at the worried expression on his face.

“Nothing,” she replied softly, hoping it would disguise the shock she was certain must fill her voice. “Just hit by a sudden thought, that’s all.” Releasing her hold on her breasts, she lowered herself to press her hardened nipples against his sweat-coated chest even as her hips again began to rise and fall. Tatewaki’s hands shifted from her hips to cup her muscled buttocks, again adding their own effort to her bounces, and she slipped her arms under his as she buried her face in his shoulder. One of his hands released its grip to probe at her ass, and her stunned mind idly wondered how many more nights it would be before something rather larger than his finger sought out that opening. The lack of disgust at the thought terrified her.

All too soon and not soon enough, she felt the sword pistoning into her depths harden against the walls of the sheath that gripped it, filling her burning core with his own fluids. She shuddered as her soul simultaneously demanded and rejected the need to seek her own release, and her hands lifted from the bed to grip her master’s firm shoulders, pulling herself against him.

Apparently taking Ranma’s actions for signs of her own satisfaction, Tatewaki sighed contentedly. His hands shifted from her butt to roam upward and gently stroke his slave’s sweaty back as his chest lifted her slightly with each deep, rhythmic breath. Finally, his breathing eased and he murmured in her ear, “Truly, sun of my life, this has been a glorious end to a hideous day, you have been a gift beyond price. But as dreadful as this day may have been, it does not absolve me of the duty to attend to my responsibilities tomorrow.”

Ranma slowly forced her hands to unclench muscle by muscle. “Yeah, you’re right,” she murmured, and slid to the side, his softening manhood slipping out of her. Turning onto her side with her back toward him, she felt him lift to turn off the light, leaving the room dark except for the barely present floor light that marked the door to the bathroom. He dropped back down to join her, spooning against her body, pulled the sheets and blanket up and over their bodies, and her own body shook with a slight shudder for the first time in weeks as one of his arms draped across her waist and its hand lightly gripped a breast.

Ranma screwed her eyes shut, forced herself to relax, and slowed her breathing even as she listened to her master’s breath as it eased into its own sleeping rhythm. She waited until the hand holding her breast slowly eased its grip, then waited some more until it slipped loose, then waited even longer until she was certain beyond a doubt that her absence wouldn’t wake him up.

Only then did she cautiously shift his arm from around her waist and slip out of the bed. Without scrubbing herself clean first or even bothering to grab a robe, she silently eased her way out of the bedroom and headed for the short corridor leading to the mini-dojo and Usagi’s room.

/oOo\

Usagi, hands clutching at her bedsheets, gazed up at the face floating above hers, the deep blue eyes and cute pouting lips framed by fiery red hair. “Ranko ...” the normally bubbly blonde whispered. Without saying a word, her lover’s face dipped, lips capturing hers, and Usagi moaned into the mouth covering her own as she felt a gentle hand capture a breast, another slipping between her legs to caress her burning cleft. Then Ranko’s lips broke away from her own and slipped down along her neck and upper chest toward Usagi’s free breast and the blonde’s legs fell open as a finger probed between her damp folds and slipped up into her depths ...

... And Usagi gave out a yipe as her body smacked into the floor in a tangle of sheets. “Owww ...” she groaned as she untangled herself and sat up, looking around in the dim light. “Fell out of bed, again. And just when I was getting to the good part, too, dammit!” _Of course, the_ last _time I fell out of bed it was Kuno-dono that was driving me crazy, not_ Ranko _. When did_ that _happen?_

Rising to her feet, a very confused teenager turned toward the mirror in her room as her actions triggered the slow rising of her bedroom’s lights. She stared at her reflection, examined her thin, not all that voluptuous body clad in the filmy, lacy black teddy she’d hoped her master would someday remove — _had_ removed in her dreams any number of times. She wasn’t a lesbian, her earlier dreams definitely proved that, and she’d never dreamed about a girl before, so what was different about Ranko?

With a sigh, she turned from the mirror to pick up the bedsheets scattered on the floor, only to pause at a sound coming through her open door — a soft thud. Turning toward the door, her eyes widened as she realized there was more light in the hall than could be explained by her own room’s lighting. In fact, hadn’t her room already been lit up a little when she first sat up? Glancing at the clock, Usagi frowned — three o’clock.

Quietly moving over to the doorway, she peeked around the doorframe to find light shining into the hall from the open door of the dojo next door. And now that she was listening, the soft sounds of someone moving around inside the room could be clearly heard in the otherwise silent night. It had to be either Kuno-dono or Ranko, but at this hour? After the previous day?

Slipping down the hall, the blonde leaned over to peak around the doorframe into the dojo, only to have her feet slip on the hallway’s hardwood floor, and her head bounced off the opposite side of the doorway on its way to the ground. “Ow!” Sitting up (again!) and rubbing the side of her head, Usagi found herself looking at a disheveled, sweat-soaked and _very_ naked (except for the slave-chain around her neck) red-haired girl staring at her with wild eyes. Usagi’s own eyes widened as she realized that not all of her mistress’s shiny, filmy coating was sweat.

Pulling herself to her feet, Usagi stepped into the dojo. “Ranko, what’s wrong?”

“Wh-what makes ya think anything’s wrong?” her mistress retorted.

“You’re in the dojo at three in the morning, from the amount of sweat have been here awhile, you’re completely naked, and you obviously didn’t bathe after your time with Kuno-dono. Something is wrong, what is it?”

An arm flew up to cover the suddenly blushing redhead’s bountiful chest, a hand covered the red bush and the folds it framed, and Ranma whirled around to face away from her bodyservant. “Sorry ‘bout that,” she mumbled.

Usagi walked up to Ranma and hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder. “Ranko, you didn’t have a nightmare about yesterday?”

Ranm shook her head, back still to Usagi. “No, I haven’t been asleep. Usagi, I ... I ... M-My Adjustment, it’s g-g-gone!” she half-sobbed in a rush.

For a moment, Usagi stared at the back of her mistress’s head uncomprehendingly, before her eyes widened in shocked realization. “You’re a lesbian?” she gasped. “You ... you had to force yourself to ... to pleasure our master without the Adjustment to protect you?”

But Ranma shook her head. “No, I _enjoyed_ it! And the Adjustment was gone, it was ... was me!”

“Oh.” Usagi’s arms circled her mistress’s shoulders and stomach to pull the redhead against her in a gentle hug. Contrary to popular opinion, Usagi was not stupid, simply lazy — physically lazy until she’d gained a mistress that insisted she take her martial arts training seriously (and that she’d found herself eager to please, oddly enough, eager enough to give that training her best effort), and mentally lazy as well. But while that had left her somewhat ignorant, it didn’t mean she couldn’t think when she had to and now her thoughts raced as she sought a way to comfort the girl that was more important to her than she’d realized.

Finally, she murmured in Ranma’s ear, “Ranko, you’ve seen our master naked any number of times, think of one of them, picture it. Does he thrill you, make you shiver, want to caress him, want him to caress you?”

“No ... no, he doesn’t,” Ranma said after a moment. “But —” She broke off as Usagi broke off her hug to place a hand on her shoulder and turn her around. The blonde placed a hand on either side of her mistress’s head and leaned in to kiss her on the lips. For a moment Ranma froze in shock, and then one arm circled Usagi’s back as the other fell to grip a buttock firming from the new exercise regimen. She pulled her servant against her as the kiss deepened, her tongue pushing against her inexperienced companion’s mouth, slipping in when the lips parted.

After several minutes the two girls broke apart, gasping for breath, Usagi blushing. “D-D-Did ...” she started in a quavery voice, broke off, cleared her throat, and tried again. “Did you enjoy that?”

Ranma nodded shakily. “Yeah ... yeah, I did.”

“Good.” Usagi grinned even as her blush deepened. She stepped back and reached up to her shoulders to slip her teddie’s shoulder strips off. Slipping them down her arms, she slid it down her torso, her legs, stepped out of it and left the tiny pile of black fabric on the floor as she straightened to face a once again stunned Ranma. Spreading her legs slightly and pushing her chest forward as she crossed her arms behind her back and her blush spread down her neck and across her upper chest, she tried to smile saucily at her mistress. “Like what you see?” she asked in a tone that completely failed at being smoky, sultry.

A blushing Ranma giggled even as her eyes roamed over the marvelous body on display before her: shiny blonde hair, smooth skin, breasts not as large as her own (few women’s were, especially when height was factored in) but firm and tipped by tiny nipples even now crinkling tight with arousal, her stomach firming up from exercise, her mound shaved bare and lower lips slightly shiny-damp, long legs also firming up... She nodded jerkily as she forced her eyes back up to the furiously blushing face of her slave. “Yeah, I d-d-do,” she managed to stammer out.

“Even better,” Usagi said, sighing with relief as she dropped her pose and stepped forward to pull Ranma into another hug, ignoring the way her mistress stiffened at the feel of their breasts pressed together. “Ranko,” she murmured in the redhead’s ear, “I don’t think Kuno-dono ever knew it, but one of the full-use slaves he had owned before he bought you — the first one, purchased for him at Pyo-sama’s order — was a lesbian. When I found out, she told me that it wasn’t uncommon for nobles’ sons, to avoid inappropriate attachment. She never talked about her time in Kuno-dono’s bed like the others did, but Makoto asked her once what it was like to be in bed with the Master when she wasn’t attracted to him. She said it was like a cake without icing — it felt good, but was missing something and didn’t do anything for her visually. I don’t know if your Adjustment is actually gone or just hiding, but it sounds like you’re the same way.”

Usagi smiled as she felt her armful relax against her, only to stiffen at what came next. “Oh, good,” Ranma muttered, “Akane’ll be happy to hear that — I was ... nervous about what I’d hafta tell her tomorrow.”

Feeling as if the bottom had dropped out of her stomach, Usagi asked, her voice shaking slightly, “Akane? You mean Tendo Akane? Kuno-dono’s other great love is your lover?”

“Yeah ... sorta,” Ranma answered, stiffening as she felt the arms around her tighten. With a sigh, she broke Usagi’s embrace and stepped back to gaze searchingly into the blonde’s eyes, then nodded to the now confused slave. “Usagi,” she said gently, “tomorrow — today, I guess — I’m gonna be visiting the Tendos.” Ignoring Usagi’s gasp, she continued, “You’re comin’ with me. There’s some things ya should know — deserve ta know — and I can’t tell ya here, ya wouldn’t believe me.”

“And I’ll believe you at the Tendo dojo — the place Kuno-dono says is the source of all evil in Nerima?” the blonde shakily quipped.

Ranma chuckled grimly. “I think thanks to the slavers we all learned differently today,” she retorted, “and yeah, you’ll believe me, ‘cause _there_ I can prove it. And now, I suppose I’d better get back to bed,” she continued, forcing a smile.

“No, you’ll never get back to sleep, not after ... all this,” Usagi disagreed. “Instead, we’re going to hop in my shower and get you cleaned up, remake my bed, and we’ll sleep there.” When Ranma stiffened, the blonde added, “ _Just_ sleep, I’m not going to try to seduce you the night before you reunite with ... w-with your lover.”

Ranma froze at the sound of the tremor in Usagi’s voice, and shot the blonde a sharp glance before her shoulders slumped slightly. “Not another one,” she murmured, before forcing on a smile. “I dunno how much sleep I’ll get with ya pushed up against me, but yeah, probably more than in bed with Kuno-dono. Let’s do it. Just set yer alarm so I can be back in bed before he wakes up.”

/oOo\

Setsuna sighed with relief as she allowed her view of Kuno’s personal dojo to swirl away into the Time Gates’ usual chaos — that had worked out rather well, better than she’d expected. Her Princess had been ... impressive. “So, let’s see how that’ll affect the future,” she murmured, and again concentrated on the Gates, watching intently as scene after scene flashed across her view, her eyes widening with each one. Finally stepping back, she stared at the Gates for a long moment in stunned amazement, then leaped straight up, shrieking “Yes!” as she pumped a fist in the air. “Finally, some kami is smiling on us! And there are some people that will want to know right away,” she continued enthusiastically. Summoning the Time Staff, she paused long enough to put on her usual expression of cool disinterest, then _stepped_ away.

/\

Hino Rei, her robe hanging open to display her nightgown-clad body, smiled down at the face of the man she was crouched over on the couch in the Hikawa Shrine’s family room. Her smile broadened as her eager fingers finished pulling open his trouser’s zipper and his engorged manhood sprang to attention without any underwear to restrain it. “Oh, good, you came properly attired,” she gently mocked even as one hand pulled aside her nightgown’s panties and the other gripped the erect cock and guided it to her already wet folds.

“But Rei, what about —” her lover started to say, only to break off with a groan as she slowly lowered her hips and his cock sank into the wet heat of her sheath.

Rei hissed as she bottomed out, at the sense of fullness she had missed during their long separation, then leaned forward to look Chiba Mamoru in the eyes. “What about my grandfather?” she asked. Mamoru nodded and she smiled. “He’s a _very_ sound sleeper,” she said confidently, “and even moreso tonight after I slipped a little something into his tea. Setsuna’s been keeping you busy running all over the Empire, and I’m not wasting any of our time together. This is certainly better than some boring old movie, isn’t it?” she added, wiggling her hips, and laughed at his groan even as she began to bounce. Oh, she had missed this so much — Mamoru’s courier duties normally kept him away from Edo most of the time, but he usually passed through on a regular basis. But they’d only become lovers just after the auction that had blown things open with the Kunos, and just before his last run had almost had him circling the Empire’s borders, and it had taken _much_ too long for him to —

“Princess Mars, Prince Endymion, I have important news.”

Rei shrieked and whipped away from her perch, hands frantically closing her robe as Mamoru bolted upright and his hands hastily covered his crotch. “Setsuna!” Rei screamed, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Pluto said blandly. “I just had some important news I thought the two of you should know immediately. But I can come back later, if you wish.”

Rei froze, blanching, and Mamoru lifted a gentle hand to her shoulder. “Is it the Princess?” he asked quietly. “She is finally joining us?”

“Yes, it’s about the Princess, but no, she isn’t joining us quite yet,” Setsuna replied, carefully ignoring the way the two on the couch relaxed at the news. “Actually, Prince, there’s been an ... interesting ... turn of events and it seems you won’t be marrying your reincarnated love, after all. I’m sure you are devastated.”

The couple stared at Sailor Pluto, struggling to process what they’d heard. “Why ...” Mamoru finally managed to get out, and the pair’s shock deepened as the woman they’d thought an inscrutable sphinx actually smiled!

“Tonight, the Princess found her new Prince. She’s going to have to be patient, but if there’s one thing we all have plenty of, it’s time — and she is going to have no interest in marrying anyone else, however much she may have loved you in a former life. Which means the two of you can stop hiding your relationship from the others.”

Her smile deepening into an undeniable grin, Pluto added, “And now, I’ll return you to your regularly scheduled program.” With that, the black-and-white fukued Senshi of Time vanished, leaving Rei and Mamoru gaping at empty space.

Shaking herself free from her shock, Rei whirled to embrace her lover hard enough that he thought he heard his ribs creak, and buried her face in his shoulder. Her shoulders shook, and the sound of her sobs filled the room. Mamoru gently embraced the crying girl, rocking her in his arms. “I know, love, I know,” he murmured, his own face streaked with tears. “I didn’t think we’d get more than a brief time together, either.”

Finally, as his armful’s sobs faded into hiccups and her grip on him relaxed, he shifted her around to sit in his lap. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “it’s truly late, and now that we’ll have all the time in the world to be together, perhaps we should —”

“Forget it, buster!” Rei growled, before pressing her mouth to his. When they finally broke for air, she smiled and wiggled in his lap, giggling at the sudden hitch in his breath. “Now, where were we?” she purred.


	24. Reunion

“So not a single otokodate thug tried to escape,” Nabiki mused as she reflected on Hiroshi’s report.

“If any did, they used tunnels of some sort,” Hiroshi replied. “We had all the alleys around the warehouse covered, and so did the cops; nobody came out that way.”

“No, there weren’t any tunnels,” Nabiki replied absentmindedly. “The cops have torn the transshipment point apart. If there were any, they’d have found them. Damn — I’d heard that some otokodate consider themselves to be bushido, but I was hoping the rumors were overstated.”

“It matters?” Hiroshi asked.

She shrugged. “Right now, no — Kuno’s people seem to have done a thorough job cleaning them out of Nerima. But if we have to face them later, they’ve just proven themselves that much more dangerous.”

Putting aside the problem for consideration later, the pageboy-haired girl turned to her bedroom’s other occupant, a purple-haired girl wearing Nabiki’s bathrobe. Hiroshi hadn’t had any trouble smuggling Shampoo into the dojo when he’d come in for his early morning pre-school martial arts lesson — her cat form had fit into his book bag with some room to spare. However, there _hadn’t_ been room for another set of clothing. Not that the Amazon had been particularly bothered by her nudity, but Hiroshi had found it just a wee bit distracting.

“So, Shampoo, have you found a route through all the booby traps on the Kuno grounds?” Nabiki asked.

Shampoo nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, Shampoo explore Kuno grounds four nights, know where booby traps are. But not know inside, how to get in, find Ranma.”

“Hopefully, that won’t be a problem,” Nabiki assured her. “Kodachi crashed the party yesterday, and had an idea.” She quickly told the two of the raid and its surprise participants.

“Do you trust Ribbon Girl?” Shampoo asked doubtfully when she finished. “It hard to believe Ribbon Girl really want to help.”

Nabiki shrugged. “What does trust have to do with it? It isn’t like I’m planning to tell her all our plans, or even ask her for help — Ukyo passed on her suggestion to Ranma when they met. It’ll be up to him to follow through with Kuno. So, Hiroshi, Genma says your team is coming along nicely with the staves, but that’s only part of it — how many do you think will actually be with us when the time comes?”

Hiroshi opened his mouth to voice his indignation at the aspersion cast on his people, then paused. After a moment he shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted reluctantly. “I don’t think we’re going to know until the call goes out.”

Nabiki made a face but nodded rueful agreement. “So, how about the catapults for the next strike on the auction viewscreen?”

Hiroshi grinned. “We’ve collected all the parts we need, mostly from the landfill, and we’ve practiced putting them together and firing them a couple times. We should be ready for the next auction.”

“Great. Do you think you were followed?” Nabiki asked.

“Yes, I do,” Hiroshi assured her. “Mind, I can’t say for certain, these _are_ ninja we’re talking about, but I think I saw one or two vans a few too many times.”

Nabiki sighed with relief. “Good.” She sat in thought for a time, her subordinate and ally patiently waiting, then nodded. “I think things are going as well as —” She broke off at a knock on the door.

“Nabiki,” came Kasumi’s quiet voice, “Ranma and a girl have arrived.”

Instantly, Nabiki was out of her seat and yanking the door open. “Great, at last!” she enthused. “Did you follow my instructions?”

“Yes, I did,” Kasumi replied, looking doubtful. “Ranma and his friend are in the furo, and their clothes are in the box you provided. Ranma was _most_ disappointed that his mother isn’t here, but —”

“Good!” Nabiki grabbed her bathing supplies. “That’ll take care of any bugs there might be in their clothes. I’ll be right down, let Akane know. I’m sure Uncle Genma will let her take a break for this, even from learning our family school — or more like, be happy for something that’ll convince her to take a break for a little while, especially this.” Turning to the other two teenagers as her older sister hurried away, she added, “Meeting’s adjourned until I have a chance to debrief Ranma. Why don’t you two join Uncle Genma?”

Shampoo and Hiroshi nodded and preceded Nabiki when she waved them through the door.

/\

Kasumi had moved quickly, and Akane even quicker — Nabiki arrived at the furo to find both the door to the outer bath and the door between the outer bath and inner bath slid open, and a soaking wet, naked redhead and a gi-clad, sweat-streaked raven-haired girl standing beside the furo, the two desperately clutching at each other. From Ranma’s expression, Nabiki thought she was struggling not to cry; Akane wasn’t even trying to maintain face, shoulders shaking as she sobbed into her love’s shoulder. A younger blonde teenager was still in the furo watching the pair, the expression on her face an odd mix of embarrassed wistful happiness. The blonde glanced over at Nabiki, blushed, and turned her head to stare at the wall.

With a sigh, the middle Tendo stripped out of her clothes and washed herself clean, then slipped into the furo with the slouching blonde. Nodding at Akane and Ranma when the blonde looked over at her, she commented, “Not something you see every day, is it? I’m Tendo Nabiki.”

“Usagi,” the blonde replied, “body slave of Kuno-dono’s, assigned to see to Ranko’s needs.”

“Ah, that explains it — fell for her, did you? So you’re a lesbian?”

“What! No!” Usagi shouted, bolting upright in her seat and staring at Nabiki in shock.

The shout got the attention of Akane and Ranma, and they reluctantly broke apart. “ ‘No’, what?” Ranma asked.

“Nothing important,” Nabiki replied before Usagi could respond. “I have to say I’m a little surprised you brought someone with you for your visit home.” _And just what is Usagi doing here?_ she didn’t say, but Ranma heard it anyway.

“Uh, yeah, ‘bout that ...” She reached up and scratched the back of her neck, then sighed. “I brought her along ‘cause she’s become a real friend, the past couple’a weeks, an’ I’m tired of lyin’ an’ hidin’ things from her — she deserves ta know the truth.”

Nabiki stared at the redhead for a moment. _Damn, looks like I should have explained the concept of ‘need to know’ to Ranma before he left._ But she couldn’t really fault herself for that failure, how was she supposed to know Ranma would get that close to anyone in that nuthouse? Of course, Kodachi had shown it wasn’t as much of a nuthouse as she’d thought....

Suddenly, Nabiki was _very_ happy about the security precautions she’d taken almost instinctively, even when she’d been laughing at herself for ‘playing spy’. She wasn’t laughing now — maybe it wasn’t just that the Kunos had the best accountants and lawyers in the world, after all.

“All right,” she said with a sigh, “Ranma, Akane, get cleaned up and in here, and we’ll bring her up to speed.”

/\

“ ... an’ that’s when Kodachi suggested I ask for permission ta come here,” Ranma finished with an attempt at a nonchalant shrug from where she sat across from her body slave and friend. “Ya know the rest.”

Usagi stared in shock at the redhead, at Akane next to her, then turned her head to look at Nabiki off to the side. “I ... are you _serious_?” she demanded. “I mean, sure, mind-altering magic, no problem, but a curse that _turned you into a girl_?”

“Yeah, I know it’s hard ta believe,” Ranma said. “I had a hard time believing it myself when it first happened, and that was with a new pair a’ tits and somethin’ rather important to me missin’. But remember how I said ya had ta wait until we came here so I could prove it? I’m not the only one around with a Jusenkyo curse — wait ‘til we introduce ya to my pop.”

“Actually, Uncle Genma is busy teaching a class right now, with another class to follow,” Nabiki said, forcing her slight frown into her usual smirk. There had been something ... off, while Ranma had been telling her story, something that had kept her from even glancing at Akane.... “However, Shampoo’s here, she’ll do just as well.”

Ranma blanched, and Nabiki chuckled as she glanced at the redhead. “No, Ranma, you can’t be there, not with the Cat Fist,” she asserted. “Akane, why don’t you take Usagi and find Shampoo, have her demonstrate the curse? Ranma and I will be in my room when you’re done.” The middle Tendo looked searchingly at a confused Usagi, then sighed to herself. _I guess ‘need to know’ doesn’t really apply to her, anymore — she already knows enough to sink us if she mentions it to the wrong person._ “Usagi, you do understand that you can’t repeat this to anyone at the Kuno mansion — anyone at all — right?” The blonde’s confusion vanished as she nodded vigorously enough to bounce her breasts in the steaming water, spreading ripples out across the surface. “Good,” Nabiki said, and turned back to Akane. “Bring Shampoo with you afterward, grab Ukyo while you’re at it, and we’ll knock the endgame around a bit.”

“Actually, we don’t really need Shampoo, anymore,” Ranma said quickly, glancing nervously toward Usagi. “At least, not ta beat the Adjustment — it failed.”

“What!?” Akane and Nabiki whirled toward Ranma, sloshing more ripples across the water. “How, when?” Nabiki demanded.

“Yesterday, during the raid,” Ranma replied, eyes dropping as the memory of a gunshot echoed through her head yet again. “I-I f-f-f-failed ta save a girl, I c-c-crip-pled her murderer, watched while h-he screamed when h-h-he was executed....” She hugged her arms around her midsection and started to shake, and Akane slipped an arm around her, pulling her head against her shoulder.

Unable to help herself, Usagi rose to step across the furo and sit by the side of Ranma across from Akane, and put her own arm around her mistress’s shoulder. Akane’s head shot up at the added touch, glaring at the younger girl. She opened her mouth to shout at the intruder, only to freeze at the concern she saw on Usagi’s face, the other girl oblivious to Akane’s anger as she focused on the girl between them. Finally, the youngest Tendo closed her mouth and turned her own focus back to Ranma, her own arm tightening comfortingly as Ranma’s hands rose to grip Akane and Usagi’s hands. Then Akane stiffened as a thought struck her. “Ranma,” she asked hesitantly, “what about the rest of the Adjustment — the part covering sex? Did that hold?”

Nabiki sat bolt upright, uncaring that her breasts shot up into view above the waterline, as Ranma froze in Akane’s and Usagi’s arms. For a long moment the redhead simply sat in the other girls’ embrace staring at the steaming water they sat in, but finally she whispered, “No. No, it didn’t.”

“What? How?” Nabiki demanded. “That makes no sense at all, they’re separate, why would being in a fight make both fail?”

“The ... the other didn’t fail in the fight,” Ranma replied, still whispering. “I felt that one go. I felt the other in the beginning, but it just ... just faded away, I didn’t even notice i-i-it w-was gone until last n-n-n-night —”

“Enough, Ranma, you don’t need to talk about it,” Akane said softly her other arm circling the redhead (Usagi’s arm as well, but she ignored that for the moment), then glared at her sister when Nabiki opened her mouth to object. “But you’re staying here — you can’t go back, not to _that_.”

Ranma took a deep breath and straightened, letting go of her grip on two of the other girls’ arms around her. “No, I have to go back, I promised,” she said firmly. “Besides, if I don’t Kuno — an’ his ninja — will just come here after me. D’ya really think endin’ up on the auction block for helpin’ a runaway slave will do me — or you — any good?”

“And you think that Kuno’s ninjas aren’t going to be storming the dojo sooner or later?” Akane demanded heatedly, letting go of Ranma and leaning back to glare at her love. “Just what do you think he’ll do when he learns I’m pregnant?”

Ranma stared at Akane, then a broad grin broke across her face. “You’re pregnant?”

“Akane’s being optimistic — she’s late so she could be, but that’s not all that unusual,” Nabiki reluctantly said, suppressing a wince when Ranma’s face fell. “But Akane, Ranma has a point. You know who would end up buying you — and it would be permanent, not just temporary debt slavery. And it wouldn’t just be Kuno’s ninjas that show up for the arrest, either — between Uncle Genma, Ukyo and Konatsu, we actually might have a chance to beat off ninjas. I’d actually prefer that if he unilaterally attacks, then we could lodge a protest with the Imperial Household and _maybe_ take Kuno down — especially if he’s delusional enough to decide any Emperor’s Hands investigating are enspelled by Ranma and attacks them. But if Ranma runs away, it’ll be Kuno’s security people — you know, lots of people with guns, after our part in the raid they won’t be taking any chances with _us_ — and the law will be entirely on _his_ side.”

“But Ranma can’t —” Akane started, only to be interrupted by Ranma as the redhead turned to face her.

“Yes, Akane, I can. I think part a’ the reason the Adjustment failed is ‘cause I was so focused on treating the ... the sex as training, thinking a’ how I could use what I was learning after, when the lock is gone and we’re back together. I’ll just hafta keep on thinking of it that way, as learning ... training, katas.”

Akane stared into Ranma’s eyes, searching ... “Ranma, are you sure? What if ... what if that’s not it? What if you’re ... changing?”

Ranma was shaking her head. “No, not happenin’, Usagi proved that to me last night.”

“She did, did she?” Akane growled, glaring over Ranma’s shoulder at the suddenly nervous blonde. “How?”

“Uh ... later, we got more important things ta talk about,” Ranma said hastily. “Like, why don’t ya know if you’re pregnant? Don’t women have tests for that?”

“Yes, we do,” Nabiki replied just as hastily. “But we don’t have any, and we don’t dare buy one. I have to assume that we’re under observation whenever any of us leave the house, and Akane had a point about Kuno’s likely reaction if he thinks she’s pregnant. Having him eventually decide that ‘the foul sorcerer’s’ influence isn’t fading and moving to pick her up is one thing, but she won’t be in any real danger — we can’t say the same about her baby.”

Usagi, having slipped away from Ranma and Akane to a new seat across from Nabiki, hesitantly raised a hand. “I have an idea. One of my friends at the Kuno mansion is Ami, and her mother is a doctor. They haven’t been able to talk to each other since they were sold, but Kuno-dono was kind enough to find out where Dr. Mizuno ended up — she’s owned by the hospital she worked at before in the Misako Lording. Maybe if I get a letter from Ami for her mom, Akane can deliver it and have Dr. Mizuno check to see if she’s pregnant under the table?”

Akane had started to glare at their guest, but the glare faded into a thoughtful look as Usagi’s words registered. “That ... might work,” she mused. “Nabiki?”

“Yes, it might,” Nabiki agreed, looking thoughtfully at the blonde. “So you believe us?”

“It ... it’s hard not to,” Usagi, replied. “You’re all so _sure_ about it.”

“Well, let’s prove it,” Akane said. She gave Ranma a last firm hug, then stood. “Come on, Usagi, let’s go find Shampoo. Nabiki, Ranma, you’ll be upstairs?”

At Nabiki’s affirmative, Akane stepped out of the furo and grabbed a towel to dry off, reluctantly followed by Usagi.

/\

Akane led Usagi, dressed in some cast-offs, through the house to the door leading to the dojo. As soon as they were out of the house, she grabbed the blonde by the arm and pulled her off the walkway and along the side of the house. She looked around to make sure there was no one else around, then turned to pin the increasingly nervous blonde against the wall a few feet from the door to the kitchen. “Okay, Usagi, just how did you help Ranma prove he isn’t changing? Did you sleep with him?” Akane growled.

Usagi’s eyes widened. “No! _Sleep_ sleep, yes, but nothing happened!” she denied vehemently, hands waving in panic. “Ranma was ... was worried about nightmares, I thought she could use some company....”

Akane’s glare faded at the blonde’s obvious sincerity, as she thought over what had just happened in the furo, the way Usagi had acted... “But you wanted to, didn’t you? Did you try to seduce him?”

“No! Well, yes, sort of ... I don’t really know how ... I thought that maybe if I gave her an opportunity, that she might ... might feel better with a girl, but she didn’t ... I don’t think she noticed ... I didn’t know you two were lovers, I swear, she never said anything about that!”

Finally, the last of Akane’s glare vanished as she chuckled. “Yeah, the idiot can be just a bit oblivious sometimes, can’t he — she — he? Pig-headed, too, even more than Ryoga and with less reason.” Turning away from the blushing blonde, the youngest Tendo stared at the window to the inner bath they’d just left, thinking over what had happened in there, what was going to happen when Ranma returned to Kuno’s bed, how her love was likely to take it, whatever he said. Finally, she turned back to Usagi. “So, just how did Ranma end up in your bed?” she asked. “Normally, he’d just about kill himself avoiding it.”

Usagi stared at Akane, her deer-in-the-headlight look back, but finally she took a deep breath, eyes dropping. “It started when I woke up around three in the morning....”

By the time she finished, Akane was shaking her head and laughing softly. “So you actually stripped naked and posed, and the idiot _still_ didn’t get it. Amazing ... I know Ranma can be completely oblivious sometimes, about ... some things, but that’s taking it to extremes even for him!”

Usagi looked up, smiling tremulously. “Learned that the hard way?” she asked shakily, and Akane nodded, smiling back.

The two girls simply stood grinning at each other for a moment, then Akane took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, her expression turning sober. “Listen, Usagi,” she murmured, “what Ranma’s doing, going to do ... he’s likely to have more ... more bad dreams, bad times. If you think it will help, and can actually get through his rock-hard head,” — a smile flashed across her face and was gone — “please, take him — her — to bed ... seduce her.”

Usagi gaped at her in shock. “Are you _serious_?”

“Yes, whatever it takes to get Ranma through this alive and sane, even if it means he falls in love with you, decides to stay a girl, and I never see him again. Whatever it takes.”

Usagi slowly nodded, convinced by the fierce determination in Akane’s voice. “All right, if I think she’s hurting that bad, if she’ll go along. But I’ll try not to get between you two.”

“Thank you,” Akane said softly, then in a louder voice, “Now, let’s get Shampoo and Ukyo, Ranma and Nabiki are probably wondering if we got lost. Then after Uncle Genma’s classes are over he and Ranma can show you what _real_ sparring looks like.”

“Right. And actually, I’m really not a lesbian, it’s just ... just something about Ranma ...”

“In that case maybe I’d better not pull out the photo album and show you what Ranma looks like as a guy — after all, you might change your mind about not keeping him....”

/\

Inside the kitchen, standing so that she was out of sight of the two girls walking past the window, Kasumi listened to the fading banter. “Good for you, little sister,” she whispered as she wiped at her tear-streaked cheeks. Deciding that her sister and their guest were far enough away that they wouldn’t hear her when she resumed preparing breakfast and realize she’d inadvertently eavesdropped on their conversation, she turned back to the vegetables on the counter and picked up the knife, then paused reflectively. She was the invisible one, the one in the background, making sure that the washing got done, the house was clean and the meals arrived on time, and she had taken quiet pride in doing her job so well that it was hardly noticed. But even when her mother had died, she had never felt as _useless_ as she had the past month.

Reluctantly, her mind returned to one of the shopkeepers she regularly frequented, and the package he had discreetly offered her. She had gently, politely refused it at the time, carefully hiding her horror at his offer, but now, with Akane’s example to shame her... Yes, once breakfast was over and cleaned up, she would have to make another shopping trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been playing around with how this version of Japan views public nudity. Historically, when Europeans reopened trade with Japan at the point of a cannon, they found a society where public nudity didn't cause an eye-blink — people would walk naked from their homes to the public bathhouses. OTOH, public displays of affection were considered shocking, and Just Not Done. Here, I'm thinking that the large minority of Shinto Christians has had an influence, to the point at least that nudity in front of strangers is frowned upon, and PDoAs, while still frowned upon, are no longer shocking.


	25. Shadow of the Emperor & a Queen's Hand

Ku Lon looked up from her preparations for a new day of feeding the masses as the sound of the tiny bell attached to the cat flap in the back door of the Cat Café, along with the ‘flavor’ of Xian Pu’s ki, signaled the return of her heir. “Mu Tse!” she called out, and was quickly joined by the bespectacled boy from where he had been setting up the dining room. “Xian Pu has returned, keep these pots from boiling over and stir them regularly until I get back.”

Without waiting for a response, the ancient matriarch pogoed out of the kitchen and headed for the stairs to the living quarters above, where she found her naked granddaughter in the bathroom turning off the faucet to the sink. {So, what did Nabiki have to say?} Ku Lon asked in their native tongue as the teenager wiped her hand before grabbing her waitress ‘uniform’.

{It wasn’t what Nabiki had to say, but Ai — Ranma,} Xian Pu replied. {He tried out Kodachi’s suggestion, and it worked. He showed up at the Tendos’ while I was meeting with Nabiki.}

{He did? I’m surprised you aren’t still there,} Ku Lon commented neutrally.

Xian Pu paused for a moment in the act of pulling on her dress, then continued. {He only had eyes for Akane, so once we were done exchanging news there was no point in staying,} she said in a voice leached of all emotion.

_Good, she has at least recognized the reality of the situation even if she doesn’t like it,_ Ku Lon thought. She’d been a little worried that the teenager would take advantage of the chaos to move against the youngest Tendo.

{Great-grandmother, good news,} Xian Pu continued, {Ranma won’t need the Cat Fist to beat the Adjustment — it failed during the fight yesterday!} Quickly, she told her great-grandmother what she had learned during her visit to the Tendos.

{That _is_ good news,} Ku Lon agreed when Xian Pu was finished, {but what about the other Adjustment, has that failed as well?}

{I don’t know, I didn’t ask,} Xian Pu replied soberly, wincing. {From what Ranma and Nabiki said he was going back whether or not it had, he would not have welcomed my sympathy, and it would have seemed callous to simply ignore it. Better not to know.} She hesitated, then asked, {Great-grandmother, what now? I know we can’t leave until we unlock Ranma’s curse, but will Mu Tse and I still be joining the fighting at the Kuno mansion?}

{A good question, child, what do you think? Should you?}

{I ... am not sure,} Xian Pu said slowly. {My heart says yes, we should. And if we do, we will secure the friendship of the God-Slayer, not a minor thing. But we will also risk the anger of the government of the Empire, and that could be catastrophic for the tribe even with the God-Slayer on our side.}

Ku Lon nodded approvingly. {Good, you are thinking things through — yes, those are the risks, and not an easy choice. But we have some time, yet, before we need to make a final decision. Consider the problem, and let me know later which course you think we should take and why. And in the meantime,} she continued, straightening, {we have a restaurant to run.}

/oOo\

The tall, white-haired Emperor strode into one of the minor audience rooms of the Imperial Palace and over to the throne, ignoring the muscular, if slightly soft, figure of his Shogun kneeling with his forehead pressed to the floor. Seating himself, the emperor carefully arranged his robes before granting the Shogun permission to rise. He gazed at his ostensible subordinate for a time, before finally saying, “My people tell me that you are preparing a strike force to send against the Tendo household.”

The Shogun started, but quickly recovered and nodded. “Yes I am, Your Majesty. Saotome Genma and his adopted daughter, along with her servant, have inserted themselves into the affairs of the Nerima lording’s law enforcement, taking upon themselves authority that rightfully belongs to their lord and his appointed retainers. Saotome-san is a powerful warrior, and Kuno-dono’s difficulties have stretched his resources thin, even with the aid that your army has given by assuming security for some of the Kuno clan’s factories and refineries.”

“I see,” the Emperor said approvingly as he considered his Shogun’s response. “So your spies have word that Saotome-san is planning strikes on Kuno facilities of interest to my military, then.”

“I ... no, Your Majesty.”

The Emperor’s approval vanished, replaced by the faintest hint of a frown. “Then the Saotomes are planning an assault on their lord directly?”

“Ah ... Saotome-san has restarted classes at the Tendo dojo, and he is focusing on staves. And staves have become a _very_ popular daily accessory throughout Nerima, even among those not taking his classes. And my agents report that there is a great deal of discontent among the people for how their lord is perceived to have mistreated the Tendos, and for what he has demanded of Saotome Ranma.”

“I see — so you can report discontent, but no actual plotting other than the resumption of classes by the only provider for a pair of families that are badly in need of income even with the debt removed from the Tendos’ shoulders. I am unsure how apparently siding with Kuno in what his people would see as a further assault on those he has already unjustly injured is supposed to calm things down, especially in that plotting’s absence. And do you consider staves to be effective against a fully trained and equipped security force and the Kuno estate’s security systems?”

“No, Your Majesty,” the Shogun replied abruptly. He was outwardly calm, but the faintest sheen of sweat could be seen on his brow as for the first time the Emperor ignored his political connections and called him on his sometimes ... creative ... interpretations of his legal limits.

“And is there any indication that they are receiving help from outside the lording?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

“Then you have received a further request for aid from Kuno-dono’s people in arresting the Saotomes for their unwarranted support of the lording’s law enforcement?”

“No, Your Majesty. I consider this an extension of the previous request.” The sheen of sweat was no longer faint, as the Emperor’s frown was no longer a hint.

“That request was for protection from assaults on the Kuno clan’s holdings. The Saotomes’ aid of the police raid, while perhaps illegal, was on an illegal slave transshipment point and was in support of Kuno retainers, _not_ an assault on a Kuno holding, and you say there is no indication that they plan such, much less that any turmoil they cause may spill across into other lordings or daimyos’ holdings. In the absence of such spreading chaos or a further public request for aid from Kuno-dono or his steward, I would have to rule any move by Imperial forces against the Saotomes to be an unwarranted interference in Kuno-dono’s internal affairs. If he feels that he needs further assistance, I am certain he will ask. Unless you wish to amend the laws governing the relationship of the Shogunate with the lords and daimyos?”

The Shogun jerkily indicated that he had no such intention, and the now faintly smiling Emperor rose to his feet. “Very well, I am sure you have other more important matters to occupy your attention in managing my empire.” Ignoring his pale and shaking supposed subordinate as he hastily knelt and pressed his forehead to the floor, the Emperor strode from the room.

/oOo\

Setsuna relaxed her concentration, a shark’s hungry grin on her face as she allowed the view of the shaken Shogun rising to his feet to melt into the neutral flicker of mixing, flashing images within the Time Gates. _So much for the Master of Servant’s attempt to get the government to do some of his dirty work for him, that is a truly obscene bribe the Shogun’s going to have to return,_ she thought to herself as she turned away. _Not that it’ll make much difference in the short run, but it does push the Shogun and the Emperor further apart. Or rather, makes the Shogun more aware of just how far apart they are,_ she mused. _It’s not like the Emperor can detest the man more than he already does._

But it was nice to have things go her way occasionally without having to lift a finger, especially when it involved humiliating someone that was as much a corrupt waste of space as the Shogun. And then there was the way Natsume Akiko had ‘just happened’ to roll over one of the Kuno secret research facilities while ‘in pursuit’ of her errant husband, son and insanely expensive battle android. Setsuna idly wondered how Natsume had learned of its location

The emerald-haired woman _stepped_ into the kitchen of the house where she’d been spending more and more of her free time, over the past few weeks. Too much time, perhaps, she suspected that the regulars of the hounts where she normall spent her ‘free’ time were beginning to wonder where she’d gone to. But after years, decades — centuries — of cold-bloodedly weighing every relationship, be it acquaintance, employee, ally, or lover by what they could contribute to her purpose, she was finding the time she spent with the other Outer Senshi when she could simply relax and enjoy the company of people instead of tools a balm to her soul. _I suppose it doesn’t matter if I’m missed,_ she decided. _It isn’t as if I won’t be moving out of their social orbit soon enough. When the news breaks, they’ll just assume I was too busy plotting to play. It’s even true, mostly._

Pouring a cup of tea, she sat at the kitchen table. Briefly, she considered how quickly the simple house she was in had become home — how even when she wasn’t looking for company like now (good thing, with Haruka preparing for a race, Michiru away practicing for an upcoming concert, and Hotaru at school), she still found herself coming to the kitchen to sit and think.

Then, smiling wryly at the foolishness she just couldn’t seem to even consider giving up (and deliberately avoiding thinking of the inevitable pain down the road, that she had felt too often before), she turned her thoughts to everything else she had seen in the Time Gates, the recent past, the present across the world, and the future that lay before them if she hadn’t made her recent visit to them. That future was no longer the dystopian tide of chaos and death that she had seen for so long — in fact, it wasn’t _anything_ , the future was in flux in a way that she hadn’t seen in centuries, and slow tears trickled down her cheeks as she let herself hope that finally, _finally_ she was turning things around from her catastrophic series of mistakes that had enslaved and impoverished so much of the world.

_So, how to push things in the direction the world needs?_ she thought to herself. The strongest temptation was to stand back, do what she had planned before her just-ended time at the Gates and let things play out, just roll Fate’s dice and wait until the flux settled on its own, especially considering how things had worked out last time. But finally, she shook her head, berating herself for her own cowardice. No, she could not leave it alone to escape more guilt — refusal to decide was itself a decision, and if it didn’t work she would never forgive herself. She needed to be able to say that at least she had _tried_. But if she was going to act, change her plans based on what she had just seen, what to do?

_Well, let’s start with what happened_ last _time,_ she mused silently. _When the future went into flux — face it, Setsuna, you panicked, turned to murder and blackmail, whatever it took, and not only didn’t you fix things, you just made the outcome worse with every attempt until you gave up and stared at your navel for a couple of generations. So this time, why don’t you try mercy — go with the easy choice instead of the hard one? That way, if it doesn’t work out you can say you’ve made things better for_ somebody _, even if not for everybody._

So, Jupiter. Should she give the newest Senshi to join the team forewarning of what was coming? Would the teenager handle it better if she knew in advance the future that awaited the master that had earned her loyalty? Finally, Setsuna reluctantly concluded that she couldn’t tell her — the Senshi of Time couldn’t know if Jupiter would suffer less for being prepared, or more from knowing what was coming and having to stand back and let it happen. But there _was_ a significant risk that she might try to interfere, warn her former master, and if it didn’t rise to a ‘more likely than not’ possibility the Time Gates wouldn’t show it.

Then that would leave Ranma. It was time to stop easing the pressure on Kuno-dono, actually get him working late nights again. It would take time to kick in, move up the ladder to the top, so the cute redhead she had just been watching at the Tendos would have to make it through one or two more nights sharing a bed with her master, but she was turning out as strong as Setsuna had hoped. Setsuna would just have to hope that the additional lost resources wouldn’t turn out to be vital to the future. _At least Mars will be delighted,_ she thought wryly. _Between getting to stop ‘hiding’ her relationship with Endymion_ — nobody had had the heart to tell the pair just how obvious they were being — _and watching as the Family she despises more than any other takes blow after blow, she’s in heaven._

But just stopping the Senshi’s protection probably wouldn’t be enough, the attacks had been dropping off a bit as the Kunos gave the outward appearance of weathering the storm, even with the enthusiastic (not to say, obsessive) opposition of the Ikaris. She was going to need to actually increase the pressure, and that ... would mean Ryoga; he would prove useful in helping out during the blowout, as well. And that meant that if she hurried, she could get started right away. Rising to her feet, she rinsed out her teacup and put it in the sink, summoned her henshin wand, and a quick transformation later _stepped_ away.

/oOo\

Ryoga abruptly awoke, carefully not moving as he listened for whatever had startled him out of a deep sleep. When he had set up his tent in a snowy pine forest clearing, it had been days since he had last slept. He had been overjoyed to see the sign in English announcing he was in some state park with an unpronounceable name — it had been the proof he needed that he had finally wandered outside of the Empire’s boundaries and so could safely set up camp. At least, he had thought it was safe....

Cracking open his eyes, he realized that there was a little too much light, what looked like firelight dancing on his tent wall. Whoever had awoken him had been around at least long enough to get a good fire going, so the intention obviously wasn’t to kill him in his sleep. He slowly shifted his blankets off of himself as he gave a relieved sigh, then tightened the various ties and buckles on his clothes that he had loosened before turning in for the night. Then bunching his legs, he _thrust_ himself out of the tent, rolling through the snow to his feet to confront the intruder.

The intruder turned out to be the not-crazy woman in her much-too-skimpy fuku (a fact he desperately tried to ignore as soon as he saw her, after wondering briefly why she wasn’t shivering in the cold). The emerald-haired woman was sitting on a large log by a fire pit that hadn’t been there in the center of the clearing when he’d crawled into his tent, and he suddenly wondered just how tired he had been, that she had been able to set all this up without waking him.

Without looking up from the hot dogs on a long, three-tined fork she held over the flames, she asked, “Are you as hungry as you were tired? If so, I have more — grab a stick and help yourself. I have buns, cheese, ketchup, relish, pickles, anything you might need.” His stomach growled, reminding him that it had been as long since he had eaten as since he’d slept, and he felt his cheeks heat up as his self-invited guest giggled. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She shifted over to make room on the log, and when Ryoga eagerly sat down handed over a fork and the package of hot dogs.

For a time neither spoke, as Royga finished off half-raw hot dog after half-raw hot dog (a still-obviously amused woman showing him how the condiments side of the unfamiliar food worked). Finally, when the last hot dog was gone and Ryoga’s stomach was slightly distended, he sighed contentedly and glanced over at his guest to see the woman smiling quietly at the slowly dying fire’s leaping flames. Sobering, he said, “Thanks for the meal, I really appreciate it. But every time you show up it’s to give me marching orders, so what’s up this time?”

The woman sighed and nodded as she turned to face the Lost Boy. “Right, to business. Remember how I suggested you not attack Kuno facilities guarded by the Imperial Army?” Ryoga nodded. “Well, I take it back — hit them, and hard.”

Ryoga stiffened in shock. “Attack the _Empire_? Why?”

“Not the Empire, Ryoga, Kuno. And it won’t be for long, just for a week or so, things are coming to a head. As for why — it’s Ranma, his Adjustments have failed. That gives him the freedom that he needs to deal with Kuno when the time comes, but until then _her_ time sharing a bed with Kuno is going to be ... rough. So let’s give Kuno something to think about besides spending time with his sex slave.”

Ryoga nodded, face suddenly pale, then jerked to his feet and turned toward his tent. “Right, I’ll get packed and right on it.”

“Wait!” Ryoga turned back toward the woman. “No, Ryoga, get some more sleep first — that way when you _do_ move you’ll be rested, and it should be nighttime in Japan, better cover and no workers around. So far you’ve managed to avoid killing anyone, let’s try to keep that up, especially since you’ll be going up against the Emperor’s troops. Don’t kill any of them, and _maybe_ I can get you off the hook for your attacks once this is over. You won’t be as much use to me in the future if there’s an Imperial shoot on sight order out for you throughout the Empire.”

Ryoga’s gaze hardened. “So I’m one of your tools. Tell me, is everything just a maneuver to you?”

The woman’s face froze, and she rose to her feet. In a cold voice, she said, “Yes, everything is a maneuver. No, everything is not _just_ a maneuver.” Turning away, she strode toward the edge of the clearing.

Ryoga watched her go, suddenly ashamed, and just as she reached the edge of the clearing he called out, “Wait!”

The fuku-clad woman paused for a moment, then turned around. “Yes?”

“Thanks for mentioning the changing view, the first time you visited. I’d gotten too used to it, didn’t really notice anymore — you woke me up.”

She gazed at him for a few moments, then smiled coolly in acceptance of his oblique apology. “You’re welcome,” she replied, then turned and vanished into the trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the comments at Anime Addventures asked just how the world had gotten so screwed up, with Pluto on the job — how did she drop the ball that badly? It wasn't something I'd really thought about much, since I'd just handwaved it when I began the story — the world is the way it is, however it got that way. Eventually I decided that in this setting, the Time Gates only show one future, the most likely one — and that based on what Pluto would have done if she wasn't taking her latest look into the future. That means that she can see the future that would be without her own future interference, but can't see what the effects of her own future sight-informed actions would have — the very act of looking almost certainly makes what's viewed out of date. In such a case, a cascading series of unintended consequences of future-informed interventions could seriously screw things up.
> 
> She can travel backward in time to change things, but she has to avoid doing anything that would change any of her choices up to the point that she traveled back in time, or be wiped from existence by the resulting paradox. Time travel isn't something for the sane and non-suicidal.
> 
> Also, some background for the Emperor's and Shogun's conversation, Japan in this setting is much like the United States, with the Clans/Families the next thing to independent inside their own territories and the Shogun in place to suppress rebellion — at the request of the daimyo or lord in question for commoners or if it spills across into another's territory — and otherwise to manage the institutions that cover the entire empire (such as the Imperial armed forces), relationships between the various lords, relationships with foreign nationalities, and manage conquered territory not yet deeded to a lord (often a new one, due to service to the state). Theoretically, the Shogun can make any law he wishes by public announcement in the name of the Emperor, after consultation with the emperor in question. As a practical matter, he has to be careful not to tread on too many toes or he's apt to wake up dead one morning.
> 
> As for the various Clans/Families themselves, relationships between many of them have obviously become much less than ideal, with competition becoming outright secret warfare. The situation is not sustainable — either it will be abandoned or suppressed, or it will blow up the Empire.
> 
> The little exchange between Ryoga and Setsuna about maneuvers comes from a book called _The Tyrant_ by David Drake and Eric Flint, which, ironically enough, is about a computer and an ghost in the machine trying to rebuild civilization after a catastrophic collapse, with the aid of a human avatar.


	26. Sleepless Nights

Ranma writhed gasping on the luxurious bed, one hand clutching at the silk sheets she lay on, the other gripping the hand of one of her lovers, the one whose lips were locked on a nipple crinkled tight with passion. Her legs were spread wide, and between them the expert tongue of her other lover played with her dripping folds and flicked across her engorged clit, sending lightning flashes of pleasure shooting through her body and forcing breathy shrieks from her lungs.

Her hips bucked at a particularly intense flash, forcing her lover up and back, and Kuno sat up, chuckling as he rubbed a finger around his mouth to wipe away her juices before sucking it clean. “I do believe our Lady Ranko is ready, my love. Do you not agree?” Ranko heard him murmur, voice distorted by her gasping breath and blood pounding in her veins.

To her disappointment, the lips suckling at her breast released their grip, and a feminine voice throatily responded, “Oh, yeah, more than ready — give her what she needs, hard and fast, and then it’s _my_ turn!”

“But of course, how could I ever disappoint the foundations of my heaven, the lights of my world?” Kuno agreed. He shifted forward to bring his and Ranma’s hips together, reached down between them, and she felt the head of his rampant manhood push between her folds to sink slowly deep inside her. “Ohhh, yessss,” she hissed as he bottomed out, his balls bouncing against her ass. Then he was he was pumping, slamming into her, the lightning flashes were back and her generous breasts were shaking with each thrust.

As Ranma once again began to shriek out her building pleasure, the lover still gripping her hand once again leaned down to recapture her bouncing nipple as for long minutes Ranma’s world narrowed to the sensations washing through her. Then the redhead’s back arched as the building pressure broke and wave after wave of her orgasm ripped through her. Her spasming pussy clamped down on her master’s pistoning cock, and he shouted as it swelled and flooded her depths to overflowing with his seed.

Ranma slumped back onto the bed as her muscles finally relaxed, aftershocks echoing through her limp body, and the mouth on her breast again let go as her lover lay down next to her. Turning her head, Ranma blinked sweat out of her eyes and focused to find herself staring at Akane’s smiling face, loving happiness shining from her eyes, a Kuno slave-chain around her neck. “Happy birthday, Ranko,” Akane whispered.

/\

Ranma abruptly awoke, every muscle tense and covered with sweat. She was lying on her back on the same bed as her dream, but the lights were out, her master was softly snoring beside her rather than crouched between her legs, and they were alone — Akane was safely back at home, not lying naked beside her and calling her ‘Ranko’.

Sighing softly with relief, Ranma slipped out of bed and made her way on shaky legs through the dark to the bathroom. She slid the door closed and turned on the lights, then leaned back and slid down the door, leaving a sweat-streak behind, until she was sitting on the cool tile floor. Pulling her knees to her chest, she simply sat and shook. What a nightmare!

_Not the worst nightmare you’ve ever had — that sweat isn’t from fear, is it? It sure beats the Pit._ Yes, it did — the claws and teeth, the cold dark, the piteous cries of hunger from the little demons trapped with him, scratching, biting, trying to eat him — it was no contest. This had definitely been the most pleasant ... no, most _pleasurable_ nightmare he’d ever had. And what had preceded it had been just as disturbingly pleasurable — the disappearance of her Adjustment didn’t mean that her master suddenly didn’t know his way around a ... girl’s ... body, and he had lovingly proven it again. And yet ...

Ranma rose to her feet, stepped over in front of the full-length mirror, spread her legs slightly, and carefully looked herself over. Bright red hair, both that falling down about her shoulders and framing her own slave chain and the patch where her legs joined, outsized but firm mounds on her chest ... and just below her trimmed patch of soft pubic hair ... Reaching up with one hand to cup a breast, gently running a finger across a nipple, she shivered as the fingers of her other hand traced a path between her again-dampening cleft.

A soft moan escaped, and she closed her eyes for a moment, until the final image of her dream flashed into her mind, Akane lying on Kuno’s bed beside her, smiling happily at one of her lovers, wishing ‘Ranko’ a happy birthday. _Yeah, right, like_ that _’ll ever happen, she hates his guts. Can’t blame her, either — she had ta_ cut off her pop’s head _‘cause a’ him! Sure, he’s a loon, he didn’t really know what he was doing, but still ..._ Stepping back, the redhead squared her shoulders. _I’m not Ranko. I’m Saotome Ranma, lover of Tendo Akane and the Powers willing will be her husband and father of her kid, son of Genma and Nodoka, heir of the Saotome school of the Anything Goes style of martial arts._

Turning from the mirror, she grabbed the nearby bathing supplies and sat on the stool to soap up and wash off the night’s detritus — both the fresh sweat and the stale sweat and dried fluids from earlier.

She toweled herself dry, turned out the lights and stepped back into the bedroom, only to pause for a time, gazing at the shadowy presence of the master bed. Finally, she turned back into the bathroom and found her bathrobe hanging in its place by memory in the dark, then silently slipped through the bedroom and main room, down the hall toward the dojo and Usagi’s bedroom.

/\

Usagi jerked awake as the alarm taped underneath one of her breasts gently vibrated, alerting her that someone had tripped the motion sensor she’d set up across the dojo door the previous evening. Sitting up, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes (sleep, not tears) as her bedroom’s lights slowly brightened. The dream of sitting in a railway car looking out the window as it pulled away from a station, waving back at a smiling Akane and Ranma faded from her mind. She thought for a moment on the dream, the way Ranma had kept growing and shrinking, switching from male to female, hair shifting from red to black and back (the various transformations not always in sync) and shook her head. Okay, so she wasn’t turning into a lesbian, just a bisexual.

Sighing, the blonde Juubanite glanced toward the clock: almost midnight. Ranma was a little earlier tonight, or maybe her body servant hadn’t caught her the previous night until she’d been at it for awhile? Whichever. Shrugging, she glanced toward her robe tossed across her chair, glanced down at the teddy she wore (green this time), then shrugged again. She wasn’t planning to strip naked this time, unless she needed to shove Ranma in her shower again, but maybe getting this much of an eyeful would give her mistress a needed thrill. Besides, there was always the morning bath after their workout....

Smiling in anticipation, she walked out the door and the few steps down the hall to the dojo. She peeked around the doorframe find what she’d expected, her redhaired mistress once again practicing her Art — in the nude again, and for a brief moment Usagi wondered if Ranma’s childhood training trip had gotten as far as Greece before shoving the thought aside. Nabiki and Akane had called it when they predicted Ranma’s reaction, now it was time to follow their advice.

“Ranma?” she called out softly, before smothering an only partially faked yawn. “It’s almost midnight, what are you doing here? Did ... did your time with Kuno-dono not go alright? Surely he didn’t just barely ... finish?”

Her mistress had whipped around when she spoke, relaxing at the sight of Usagi standing in the doorway. “No ... no, that’s long over,” she replied.

“So you couldn’t sleep? Then what are you doing in here? You need sleep, you didn’t get enough last night, you probably didn’t get enough the night before, and I said you could spend the night with me whenever you needed to. Is something wrong with me? Did I offend you somehow?”

“No, no!” Ranma responded hastily. “I just ... just ...”

_Just didn’t want to admit you need help,_ Usagi thought. “You just didn’t want to impose, I know,” she finished, walking up to her mistress. “But it’s not really fair, you know, not letting us do our share. Now, come to bed — you’ll want to be up early enough to be back in the master bedroom before Kuno-dono wakes up. And next time, don’t make me get up and fetch you.”

“Yes, Mother,” Ranma intoned solemnly, the same way he’d heard Yuka do to Akane, once. As then, it startled a snort of laughter from her body slave, and Ranma smiled at the sound even as she felt something in her relax.

Usage turned to lead the way, and Ranma found her eyes drawn to the way that the cut of the younger girl’s teddie left most of her buttocks bare — a pair of buttocks that had tightened up noticeably since she’d started working out under her mistress’s direction.

Glancing back as she entered the bedroom, Usagi caught the direction of her mistress’s gaze. “Like what you see?” she purred, trying to channel the tone of one of her favorite actresses.

Ranma’s widening eyes shot up to her face. “No! I mean, yes! I mean —” she babbled in ingrained, instinctive panic.

Usagi laughed softly. “Relax, Ranma, if I didn’t want to be looked at I wouldn’t dress like this,” she said. _Though my original target was Kuno-dono...._ Running her eyes over the redhaired girl’s nude form, she added, “You obviously can’t say the same. I know you don’t usually wear anything at night, but don’t you believe in nightclothes even for walking around?”

Ranma shrugged, face abruptly closing up. “Far as I can tell, the only reason ta put on nightclothes is so Kuno can take ‘em off. And call me Ranko when we’re away from the Tendos.”

_Oops ..._ Usagi simply stood for a moment, one lifted hand half-outstretched toward Ranma, trying frantically to think of something to say. But nothing came to mind, and she finally just dropped her hand, saying, “Right, sorry, let’s get to bed.” Lying down, she waited until Ranma lay down beside her, pulled the other girl’s stiff body against her own, and reached up to palm off the room’s lighting. “Good night, Ranko,” she whispered.

G’night, Usagi,” Ranma replied. She slowly relaxed, and soon settled into sleep.

But Usagi simply lay there long into the night, smiling wistfully as she listened to her love’s soft, steady breath in the silent dark.

/oOo\

Ryoga slowly woke up for the second time, this time to bright sunlight with occasional unfamiliar birdsong echoing through the forest around him. With a contented sigh, he again tightened various ties and buckles, then crawled out of his tent to a beautiful clear (if cold) morning. For the first time in days he felt both rested and full, and for a few minutes he simply luxuriated in the sensations as he gazed appreciatively at the scenery about him. He’d have to thank the not-crazy lady again when he next met her, when it wouldn’t be an unspoken apology.

But thoughts of the emerald-haired woman reminded him of their conversation, and what his rival faced. Suddenly the scenery lost its appeal, and Ryoga hastily turned to start breaking down his camp. It was time for the not-so-much-so-Lost Boy to continue his lessons in consequences to the new lord of Nerima.

/\

Ryoga crouched in the undergrowth outside the fence surrounding what looked like a refinery. He didn’t see any lighted signs proclaiming ownership as he had in the beginning, but wasn’t surprised — those lights had gone off within days of the start of his crusade. But he wasn’t worried, after the not-crazy lady’s bit of advice on the workings of his ‘curse’ he had begun trusting it more. If it had led him here, then here was where he needed to be.

Carefully staying hidden, he scanned what he could see in star- and moonlight, running his eyes along the fence and the ground between that fence and the undergrowth. That undergrowth was well back from the fence, more than usual, but had obviously been cut back recently. And at the other places his ‘curse’ (he supposed he ought to start calling it his _gift_ ) had brought him since the not-crazy lady’s second visit, that had usually meant ...

Yes, there, moving toward him along the inside of the fence, night vision goggles on, was an Imperial Army patrol. Ryoga froze in place, hardly breathing until they’d passed, then about ten minutes longer, before finally relaxing. As he’d thought. And beyond the roving patrols, there undoubtedly were soldiers stationed inside as well. He eyed the wide cleared zone between the fence and the first buildings and storage tanks. While he would have no problem getting through the fence, he wasn’t faster than bullets, and he wasn’t _that_ tough — not against what the Army was likely to throw at him if they knew anything about him at all. Fortunately, he didn’t need to be that tough. Grinning, he carefully slipped back into the underbrush.

/\

The emerald-haired lady’s praise of his wandering curse had been an eye-opener, and he’d started paying attention rather than simply walking in a depressed haze, dreaming of what he’d do whenever his path took him back to Nerima, or trying to come up with a new way to beat Ranma. As a result, he’d noticed a pattern to the way the unpredictable shifts happened — like linked to like. If he wanted to go to a particular location, he needed to start in at least a vaguely similar location. So he kept his eyes open as fifteen minutes of ‘random’ walking through countryside, then a village, then a small town, finally brought him to the rough, rundown part of a nighttime Western city, vaguely familiar, late enough for the streets to be empty except for desperate streetwalkers. He looked around and picked a likely building, an old home or apartment building with windows boarded up, clearly abandoned — which would mean no security alarms.

Striding up to the door, Ryoga pulled on the handle. As expected the lock had been broken, and as he stepped into an almost pitch-black hallway a wave of odor washed over him that let him know that besides moldy carpet, squatters had used at least one of the building’s rooms as an open-air toilet, also as expected.

Finding the wall with an outstretched hand, he carefully walked along the hallway as he concentrated on where he wanted to go, the refinery he had left less than half an hour earlier. His hand running along the wall found a corner; he turned it, and felt the surface beneath his feet change from the uneven feel of worn carpet to some sort of hard, smooth surface as the wall changed from a surface made rough by shedding plaster to smooth wood.

Ryoga grinned fiercely. It had worked! Well, maybe. He continued walking along the hall, testing each door as his hand on the wall found it until he found one that was unlocked. It led to a meeting room, with the window he was looking for, and an upper-story view of the buildings and storage tanks that _could_ be the refinery he wanted. Ryoga shrugged. If it wasn’t the same refinery it would be another Kuno facility, and from the look of the storage tanks another one guarded by soldiers. One was as good as another.

/oOo\

Kuno awoke to the sound of the vidphone alarm demanding his attention from the main room. Sitting up and rubbing at his face, he glanced around and stiffened as the absence of his love registered — maybe the bathroom?

Rolling off the bed, he strode over to the bathroom — lights out, no redhaired beauty waiting for him ... first things first, perhaps she’d simply gone for one of the late night walks the Family’s ninjas had reported.

He grabbed his robe from its hook on the wall, shrugged it on as he strode toward the main room and the sounding vidphone and hit the ‘accept’ button.

The screen lit up with the face of the Kuno steward, who immediately dipped his head in an on-screen bow. “My apologies for disturbing you, my Lord, but there’s been another attack on one of our facilities.”

“That is unfortunately all too common an occurrence in these difficult days. So Morimasa, what, pray tell, makes this one so important that the report could not wait until my morning summary of the health of my lording?” Kuno asked coldly.

“This was another attack by Hibiki, and this time he hit one of our refineries — the one at Niigata,” Kasusi hastily replied.

Kuno froze in shock. “But our refineries are protected by his Majesty’s army!” he protested. “Has Hibiki gone mad to attack the Emperor himself? To kill the Empire’s protectors?”

“He didn’t do either, my Lord. The first anyone knew he was there was when he set fire to the storage tanks. The central reaction force evacuated without serious injury and the patrols he somehow slipped past without being noticed were never in any danger.”

Kuno frowned thoughtfully. “He has never demonstrated such skill in stealth in any of his previous assaults. Are you certain that he was the attacker?”

“Yes, my Lord, he set the fires through use of the same bluish-red energy blasts he somehow generates, and we did capture some footage showing him silhouetted by the flames — the shape, at least, is his. The footage shows him _very_ close to the explosions, perhaps he was killed by his own attack?”

“Once we bring the fire under control a search must be made for a body, but it unlikely that the Powers will smile upon us to such an extent,” Kuno replied, then paused. “We _are_ bringing the fires under control?” he added as he tried to remember the assets immediately available at Niigata.

Kasuse waffled for a moment, but finally shook his head. “No, we aren’t. The people on the ground are making a valiant effort with the resources they have, but for a disaster of this magnitude — the first effective reinforcements will arrive within a day, and more every hour after.”

“Very well, you were correct to disturb my repose. Instruct those at Niigata to pull back, limit themselves to keeping the fires contained — there is no point in risking such courageous people when there is no chance of victory. Arrange transportation to the refinery while I dress and arm myself. I will hear a full report on the way.”

Kasuse hastily made his farewell and bowed before the screen went dark.

Kuno stared at the blank screen for a moment, before turning away to return to the bedroom and hurriedly dress in his usual daytime finery and twin swords.

Returning to the main room, he scribbled out a note for Usagi letting her know he would not be there for breakfast and quietly walked down the hallway past the mini-dojo’s door to her quarters, only to pause at the sight of her slightly open door. Curious, he peeked through the crack and an eyebrow went up at the sight of two indistinct figures asleep in the bed. From the hint of red in the faint shine of the nightlight, the second form was likely to be Ranko, but what was she doing here? He took a deep breath, but there was no scent of sex....

_Nightmares,_ he finally thought to himself. _The glory of my life was deeply disturbed by her first taste of death in combat, both those of the men she killed and the innocents she failed to save, as well as the judgments and executions that followed. She must be reliving that day in her dreams, and my own noble form playing a part in the events deprives her of the power to draw comfort from my presence. I will have to remember to thank Usagi when I return for giving her mistress that bliss of sleep that I cannot._

Sticking the note to the inside of the door, he slipped noiselessly away toward the entrance to his suite.

/oOo\

“So, Kenta, did your strays show up?” Okana Taisho asked one his four lieutenants.

Santo Kenta’s small image nodded in his quarter of Okana’s monitor. “Yes. I was right, their route used the train that broke down. Because of their apparent low status and the overcrowding from having one less train, there wasn’t room for them on the next few to come through. But they finally made it in late last night.”

“Good,” Okana replied. “And the equipment? You all have received your proper allotments?”

The heads visible in all four quarters of the monitor nodded. “Mine’s all here, but not quite all ready,” Santo added. “Now that all my men are here and rested, we’re taking everything out of the crates and cleaning them off, breaking them down and checking them out. So far, everything looks good. I’m not going to ask how we acquired Kuno equipment,” he added with a grin.

Okana frowned repressively. “Don’t even speculate,” he warned. “And while I understand your decision to make sure the men stripping down your equipment are fresh, expedite that. This lording is a powderkeg, even worse than reported — it could go off at any time, and we need to be ready.”

Santo frowned thoughtfully at his superior, but hastily assured him that he would pass the word to expedite his team’s preparations, and the conference call was over. With a sigh, Okana leaned back and stared pensively at the now blank screen.

“Okay, boss, what’s got your panties in a bind?”

Santo turned his head to try to stare repressively at his right hand man, but failed miserably. “You’ve been watching too many American cop shows,” he said, a faint quiver of a chuckle in his voice. “And I _really_ hope you never use that one on Kana — I need your services, and what would be left when she was done with you wouldn’t be of much use. The scouts are all in position?”

“But of course, mein maestro, with me in charge, how could it be otherwise?” Dan Yuji replied airily. “All sides of the Kuno estate are under discreet surveillance, outside the walls at least, and report all quiet. So, what’s bothering you? This is hardly the first job we’ve taken from this particular esteemed patron, and the rest went off without a hitch. Why should this one be any different?”

Santo frowned again, the temporary light mood at his subordinate’s joking already fled. “I’m not sure,” he said as he thought over the orders and arrangements he’d received through the usual back channels. “It just doesn’t feel right — hasty, perhaps. Normally, this employer’s plans are gems of preplanning: everything in place in advance, multiple contingency plans for every realistic possibility and a number of _un_ realistic ones, victory essentially assured before the first shot is fired. This time, it feels ... thrown-together, slapdash, _rushed_. If it wasn’t for the codes with the job offer, I’d think we were dealing with someone else entirely.”

“Ah, I’d wondered,” Dan said soberly, dropping his usual lighthearted pose. “I have to agree that ‘Charge the mansion and shoot any Kuno retainer — and especially any Kuno — you can find, then skedaddle before the cops show up’ isn’t much of a plan, and the mansion layout we’ve been provided is more than a little old. I wouldn’t have expected you to accept such a haphazard job. Took it without checking out the details when you saw where it came from, right?”

Flushing with embarrassment, Santo nodded. “Yes, I did. Careless of me, I know, and he must have been counting on that, but ... _curse_ the man, he’s always been so dependable, how can he _do_ this to us?” he burst out, slamming his fist down onto the tabletop hard enough to bounce his laptop.

Dan shrugged. “Even control freaks go for targets of opportunity, sometimes. If it works he comes out the winner, and if it doesn’t all he risks is a strike team of ronin, no big loss — unless you’re one of the ronin, of course, in which case the loss is total,” he finished with a sardonic twist of a smile. “So what say we pull this off brilliantly, and then never work for this particular ass of a patron again?”

Santo forced himself to relax as he chuckled. “Yes, that sounds like a _fine_ plan, so let’s see what we can do to pull it off. I doubt any of our scouts will be able to get a good look over the estate walls, but if they can have them send us all the raw footage. We can at least compare it to the outside layout of our mansion blueprints, see what’s changed on the outside....”


	27. Reconnecting

“Hey, boss, you have a visitor,” Izumi Noa called out, sticking her head through the open doorway of Captain Goto’s office.

The dark-haired man glanced up at his subordinate’s voice, then straightened as a young emerald-haired woman in a conservative business suit strode past Izumi into his office. He had an expression of calm inquiry in place, but he felt something inside relax at the sight of Meioh Setsuna. He had never met the famous fashion designer before but some of his people had, both her and some of her people, in circumstances that had not been exactly in line with her public persona of an apolitical woman of business that was content to sell her fashion lines to whomever wished to buy them (quite a large number, at very high prices) and accept her status somewhere between a merchant and an artisan, and so kept herself out of the shadow wars between Clan and Clan, Clan and Family, Family and Family. As well, Izumi had passed on what Setsuna had said at the auction — about the opportunity to bid on a _martial artist_ of ‘Ranko’s’ capabilities not coming along every day — and that, too, didn’t quite fit her public persona. No common businesswoman in her industry, no matter how successful, needed a bodyguard of Ranma’s extraordinary but limited skill set, or was even likely to know he existed.

“Meioh-san, this is a pleasant surprise,” Goto said, rising and waving her toward one of the seats in front of his desk — the comfortable one—and asked Izumi to bring some of the refreshments he kept for civilian visitors. Turning back to his guest, he said, “My subordinates have spoken well of you and your people from the one time circumstances brought them together, can I give my thanks for the assistance you gave us? That situation could have been ... awkward ... without the presence of your people.”

“No need to thank me, Captain. True, the ... situation ... wasn’t really in my area of interest, but we were happy to provide what little assistance your people needed. I’m just sorry that we weren’t able to meet at Ranma’s auction three weeks ago, but I can understand how that wasn’t possible, as tense as things got.”

“True, I was busy at the time, but I still should have made time to meet you. But as happy as I am to have the opportunity now, I’m sure you didn’t visit simply to correct my earlier failure. What can I do for you?”

Before Setsuna could answer, Goto’s perky redheaded subordinate returned with tea and a plate of finger foods. The businesswoman paused to sample them, an eyebrow rising at the quality — not what she’d expected at a police headquarters, even that of one of the elite crowd control units. A sip of the tea proved it to be of a similar quality. Reluctantly, she set it aside. Her time was limited, so on to business.

Looking back up at the police captain still patiently waiting, she said, “You are correct, I do have some business for you, or rather with some of your people. While my security people are experienced bodyguards, things have been getting ... serious, lately. I know you’ve heard about the attacks on the various Kuno holdings, it’s impossible not to have, but have you heard of the attacks on the Americorp properties after their acquisition of the Kaima Family assets? While the Shogun’s newly announced law will prevent further acquisitions by foreigners, it doesn’t reverse the one already in place and I am a little concerned that the animosity stirred up will spill over to those that do business with foreigners — such as myself.”

Goto frown slightly as he considered what Setsuna had said. “Surely you aren’t asking to temporarily hire some of my people for security? I can’t really spare them for what could be an extended situation — as you say, things are somewhat unsettled at the moment. Nor would they likely wish to use up all of their personal time off for this, unless you made it truly worth their while — and if you do that, I would think it would be simpler to just hire more private security.”

But Setsuna shook her head. “No, I don’t want to hire them for security. As you say, I would be better off simply hiring more of my own, and in fact I am in the process of doing just that. However, the security I currently have are trained to protect against limited attacks, both in numbers of attackers and the lethality of equipment. What I would like to do is hire some of your people to familiarize them with the kind of equipment your people are armed with, especially the powered flyers and one-man crowd control mini-tanks.”

“For their own use, or for protecting themselves from attackers using them?”

“Both.”

“I see.” Goto considered the offer for a few minutes before nodding. “I think that should be doable, for a few days. The rising chaos hasn’t really touched my own area of responsibility, yet, and probably shouldn’t. If some of my people are willing to take some time off, I’ll permit the use of their equipment in the interests of community relations. But true familiarization will require that they be _used_. Do you have a place in the country with enough space for that?”

“Yes, I do,” Setsuna assured him. “I took the liberty of presuming your answer, and have made arrangements with some farmers on the outskirts of Nerima for the use of their wheat fields for the tanks, and a sumo pig ranch for the flyers. We should be fine.”

Goto nodded again, carefully keeping any reaction to the location off his face, even as he felt himself relaxing even more. Someone else owed Ranma, it seemed, and was aware of how tense things were getting in Nerima. “And how soon will you want them there?” he asked.

“I know it’s an imposition, but would tomorrow be too soon? I really do wish to see if this will work for my people as soon as possible. If not, I will need to make other arrangements.”

Goto considered the request, thinking over his people’s schedules, then nodded. “Yes, that should be doable, though I will need to check to see who’s willing to take the time off and verify equipment availability. What addresses should the equipment be delivered to, and who do I call with numbers of equipment and people available?”

Setsuna gave him the addresses and contact information, then engaged the captain in small talk as she again sampled the excellent refreshments, before reluctantly taking her leave. Her next ‘appointment’ wasn’t likely to be anywhere near as pleasant. _So, that should hopefully take care of Ikari’s people, now to make sure Nodoka makes it home on time,_ she thought wearily as her limo pulled out of the headquarters parking garage on its way back to her official residence (if no longer home).

/oOo\

Mizuno Ami’s eyes constantly roamed as she walked down the luxurious corridors of the Kuno mansion, looking for the security cameras she was certain were there. Not that the blue-haired girl expected to actually find any, of course — considering the current level of miniaturization possible, she expected that they would be discreetly hidden away. But she couldn’t stop herself from looking, anyway.

First, because she was nervous about visiting her master’s suite — even though she’d been invited and he wasn’t home, there was a reason the slaves called it The Hermitage. Second, Usage was up to something. The blue-haired teenager didn’t know _what_ her friend was up to but she knew she was. When Usagi had invited her to come visit Kuno-dono’s suite while their master was out, her nervousness had been obvious to anyone that knew her. And the one thing Ami was sure of was that whatever it was, it somehow involved her.

Then the doorway was in front of her. Taking a deep breath, she hit the chime.

“Ranko, you stop right there, that’s _my_ job!” Ami’s eyebrow rose at the sound of fond exasperation in her friend’s voice — and at the thought of how loud that shout had to be, to get through what she assumed had to be excellent soundproofing. She’d known since her fellow Juuban’s last visit to her dorm that the blonde and her ‘mistress’ were friendly, but there were limits.

Then the door opened, and Ami’s other eyebrow rose to join the first one at the sight of an unfamiliar redheaded teenage girl dressed in a red silk blouse and black skirt of some sort with a Kuno slave chain around her neck to match Ami’s own. The girl was looking over her shoulder back into the suite. “Yeah, like I’m just gonna sit around an’ let ya wait on me hand an’ foot!” she called back into the apartment, then turned around and smiled at Ami. “Hi, I’m Ranko, you must be Ami. Come on in.”

She stepped out of the way, and Ami walked through and looked around. The simple décor wasn’t what the Juubanite had expected, after the luxury of the rest of the mansion that she was familiar with (other than the slave quarters and offices, of course), and she wondered briefly what it said about her master.

Then Usagi’s arms circled her and all thoughts of interior design were lost as her maid-uniformed friend lifted her off her feet and whirled her around. “Ami, it’s so good to see you again!” the blonde gushed.

“Whoa, easy, put me down, it’s only been a week!” Ami gasped, laughing breathlessly.

Ranko joined in the laughter as she closed the door. “Easy, Usagi, ya don’t want ta hurt her,” she warned.

A blushing Usagi lowered her friend to the floor, “Sorry,” she muttered.

Ami forced her laughter down to chuckles as she straightened her clothing. “I’m happy to see you, too,” she said. “So, what’s going on?” The room went quiet, and she looked up to see Ranko and Usagi exchanging glances.

“Nothing! I ... we just ... you see ...” Usagi stammered out.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, it’s not that tough ta explain,” Ranko interrupted, rolling her eyes. “Ami, ya heard about me, right?” Ami slowly nodded. “Well, Kuno-dono’s good enough ta let me visit home, an’ Usagi figured we could use that ta take out a letter for yer mom.”

Ami froze. “I ... you can ... Mom?” she stuttered.

“Yes, your mom,” Usagi repeated, giving her friend a wistful smile. “You write a letter, Ran — ko and I take it with us when we visit the Tendos tomorrow, and one of the girls there passes it on.”

Ami shot Usagi a sharp glance at the stumble on the name. _She knows. And living here in the Hermitage, she wouldn’t have heard the rumors,_ I’m _the one that tells her about them, and I didn’t. So, how does she know? Maybe they’re true?_

But after a moment’s speculation she set aside the inconsequentials to focus on what really mattered — a letter for her mother. Tears started rolling down her cheeks. “Where’s the computer?”

/\

Ami broke off her frenzied typing at the chime of the vidphone’s daytime alert. She glanced up as Usagi rose from in front of the flatscreen where she and Ranko had been playing as her fellow juubanite’s redheaded, busty avatar got uppercut through the top of the screen. Usagi glanced back as she hurried to the phone, her hands busy at the back of her neck as she closed the clasp on her slave chain. “No fair, I got distracted! We’re doing that one over!”

“Hey, gettin’ distracted in a fight is gonna hurt. Whether in a game or for real, ya gotta take yer lumps,” Ranko replied, pausing the game and grinning as she turned to watch her slave.

“That’s an awful excuse,” Usagi groused over her shoulder, pouting. The vidphone’s chime sounded again, and she turned back to the monitor and hit the ‘accept’ button. “Pyo-sama, what’s up?”

Ami found herself trying to hide in her high-backed chair even though she knew the Master of Servants couldn’t see her at that angle and she’d been invited to visit, anyway.

“You’re wearing your chain, Usagi, very good,” the Master of Servants praised.

“Thank you,” Usagi replied, cheeks stained by a faint blush. “What can Ranko or I do for you?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to let you know that Kuno-dono will be returning from the refinery cleanup tonight. Not until late, though, so you should have plenty of time to finish having fun with Ami and still have everything ready for his arrival.”

“I ... thanks,” Usagi said.

“You are welcome.”

Usagi turned from the vidphone and hurried back to sit down by her suddenly pale mistress. “If he’s getting home as late as Pyo-sama says he’s probably going to be too tired for anything but a meal and sleep,” she said quietly, an arm going around the redhead.

Ranko leaned against the younger blonde for a moment. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” Straightening, she added, “So let’s see if ya can get lucky here. You _have_ been gettin’ better, maybe in a year or so you’ll actually beat me.”

Usagi stuck out her tongue at her opponent, then looked back at Ami. “Hey, Ami, finish up and get your letter on a memory stick, then get over here — I want to play someone I can actually beat!”

Ami grinned. “You’re on!”

But on turning back to the computer, she found herself distracted, her mind reviewing the odd group dynamics of what had just happened, trying to puzzle out what was going on. Finally deciding she still lacked necessary data, she shook off her confusion and turned her attention back to the more important matter of telling her mother everything she could about her life since they’d been separated and sold two years before.

/oOo\

Happy to be a minder, Matsumoto Hanh maintained her usual silence when shepherding her mistress as the four girls walked through the streets of Nerima. Something was going on — not with Kodachi, but with Usagi and Ranma. The two girls were ... tense, excited? Looking forward to something, anyway. If it had been just Ranma, Hanh would have thought it was simply eagerness to see her family again, but it was Usagi as well — even moreso, actually, the bubbly blonde didn’t hide her eagerness as well.

_At least Koadachi-sama isn’t a part of whatever’s up,_ the ninja thought to herself. _And that means that so long as nobody blurts out anything in front of me, I won’t have to report anything to Pyo-sensei — let others try to figure out what Ranma is up to,_ my _responsibility is to keep an eye on my mistress. It isn’t Kuno-dono and Usagi’s quarters that I’m searching at night for smuggled potions and powders, after all._

She still couldn’t believe that Lord Kuno had agreed to let his sister join ‘Ranko’ and Usagi on their weekly visit to the Tendo’s when she’d asked him after he’d decided to join them for their morning sparring before heading for his office. Though on second thought, perhaps it wasn’t so surprising, considering that his decision would have been based on her reports of her mistress’s behavior and attitudes, and those reports had been ... perhaps somewhat more positive than warranted. Or at least, not as her brother and the Master of Servants would appreciate — Kodachi and Hanh’s discussions about honor, with and without the addition of Ranma, had been deep and wide-ranging but in some ways equally disturbing. Hanh was beginning to find it difficult to sleep at night.

Then the Tendo dojo came into view, and Kodachi glanced over at her. “As far as you go, like we agreed?”

“Of course, mistress.” Hanh stopped and watched as the other three crossed the street and walked through the dojo’s front gate, then found a good shade tree where she could wait as she tapped in the code for her on-watch status in the net for the Kuno ninjas on Tendo watch. As she sat, she felt herself relax — whatever else happened, Operation Clean Sweep wouldn’t be ordered, not with Ranma and especially Kodachi on the premises.

/\

“We’re here!” Ranma called as she changed her shoes for slippers.

“Ranma!”

Ranma stiffened at the sound of her mother’s voice, dropped a slipper and broke into a run for the kitchen. “Mom, you’re back!”

Kodachi and Usagi exchanged smiles as they finished putting on their own slippers, and Usagi picked up the one Ranma had discarded before the pair followed more slowly to find Ranma and a Nodoka wearing an apron over the uwagi and hakama now favored by kendoists rather than her normal kimono. The pair were standing in the hallway outside the kitchen, the auburn-haired woman failing to hold back her tears as the two embraced.

Pausing a few feet away, the pair waited, Usagi reaching up to remove her slave chain. Beyond the pair, a silent Kasumi stepped out of the kitchen, her smile dimming momentarily at the sight of the Kuno sister’s distinctive off-centered ponytail. Then there was a soft clatter of feet on the stairs behind them, and Nabiki joined them, her own face going blank.

Finally Ranma and her mother separated. Nodoka wiped at her cheeks, her gaze searching Ranma’s face. “It is good to see you, my son. You are well?”

Ranma shrugged. “As good as can be expected,” she said with forced nonchalance.

Nabiki’s thoughts raced, trying to find an even somewhat subtle way to get them out of their clothes (and any possible bugs) and came up empty. Last time she’d been able to get Ranma and Usagi into the furo and into a change of clothes for sparring afterward, but _Kodachi_? And the leotard she was wearing was perfect for sparring, considering her chosen martial art — damn it!

_I guess subtlety is just going to have to get tossed,_ she thought wryly. “Okay, before anyone says anything more, let’s get you out of those clothes.”

Kodachi’s eyebrows rose, and she glanced at Ranma.

Ranma shrugged. “Bugs. Come one, I’ll show ya where we can change. Kasumi can ya get Kodachi some clothes?”

“Of course,” Kasumi replied, her smile turning more natural at Ranma’s easy manner with the Kuno heir.

/\

Kodachi stepped into the dojo, and the clacking sound of wooden staff on wooden staff stuttered and died away as the students of the class turned to stare at her. She stiffened under the universally hostile glares suddenly focused on her, but kept her face calm — however debased its reputation had deservedly become, being a Kuno had once _meant_ something, and she would not dishonor her ancestors as had her father and brother. _And you as well, you have a lifetime’s labor ahead of you, redeeming the Family from our narcissism._

Only it turned out that not all the faces were hostile. One that wasn’t was Akane’s, of course, though the joy that had lit up her face when Kodachi walked through the door had nothing to do with _Kodachi_ , and she was already out the door and gone. But the other nonhostile faces belonged to Genma and his adopted daughter. Ukyo’s face was stiffly neutral, but Genma actually offered her a welcoming smile as he greeted her.

“Kodachi-sama, welcome to the Tendo dojo,” he said as he bowed. “I assume my son came with you?”

“Yes, he did,” Kodachi replied, returning the bow equally deeply, ignoring the stir among the students at her _noblesse oblige_. “But he is with his mother, and I suspect between her and his fiancée it will be some time before he makes his way here.”

Genma nodded. “Understandable. Until then, would you do us the favor of demonstrating your own chosen style, and how it matches to the staff that I have been teaching?”

Kodachi stared at the balding Master for a long moment. “I would be happy to,” she finally responded, “but my style is primarily weapons-based and I didn’t bring the tools of my Art with me.”

Genma waved to a corner of the dojo, where a ball sat. In a new open cabinet above it were hung up a pair of clubs, a ribbon, and a hoop (the latter without a sharp edge). “After our encounter during the raid on the slavers, I hoped you would visit and so acquired what you would need. I think a bout with me would be the best demonstration. Ukyo can referee.”

Sighing softly as she walked over to take up the ribbon she preferred, Kodachi resigned herself to a period of serious pain — Ranma had been bad enough in their first clash years ago, and from what she’d learned since his father had been regularly beating him at the time. But perhaps Genma wouldn’t take advantage of the bout to pay her back for her earlier treatment of his son and Akane. “I believe I should stick to the ribbon, and perhaps the clubs,” she said as she took them out of their case. “The hoop and ball are fine for competitions, but since they are primarily thrown weapons and bulky in any case they aren’t usually appropriate for self defense. As well, your students will better observe our bout if they aren’t worrying about dodging.”

Genma nodded. “Reasonable.” He motioned for the students to clear the dojo floor, and picking up a staff, moved out to the center. (And an interesting mix of students it was, from late teens to the almost elderly.)

Kodachi took her position across from her opponent. As she waited for Ukyo to signal the beginning of the bout, she commented, “I thought Anything Goes was an empty hand style.”

Genma shrugged. “It focuses on empty hand techniques, because they aren’t dependent on anything but your own body. But it’s a dangerous world, and so I thought a basic grounding in weapons should be included — ‘Anything Goes’.”

Kodachi suppressed a wince at the thought of what ‘basic’ would mean to someone of Genma’s level of skill, and then Ukyo gave the signal for the bout to start and she leaped back to avoid Genma’s first strike even as she sent her ribbon spiraling toward him.

/oOo\

Nodoka knelt in the Tendo family room, the fingers of one hand nervously plucking at her now preferred hakama, the other white-gripped around the hilt of the Saotome Honor Blade once again at her waist (its new usual location, rather than inside the bundle she had formerly used to carry it around). Ranma would be back soon from changing clothes along with the blonde girl Akane had told her about upon her return the previous day, and what could she ask her son about his — her time at the Kuno mansion without making her uncomfortable at best, traumatizing her again at worst?

The truth was that, however important her son was to her, she didn’t really know him all that well. She had been so caught up in the moment when she first saw her cursed son that she hadn’t gotten a long look at her almost-twin at that age before the teenager had been rushed away to change. Akane said her fiancé seemed to be bearing up as well as could be expected, but —

“Heya, mom.”

Nodoka looked up at the sound of the voice of her son’s female form, to find the redhead and her blonde slave standing in the doorway, Akane behind them. Ranma’s eyes were fixed on hers, and Nodoka felt herself relax at what she thought she saw there. Ranma seemed ... not happy, certainly, not serene, Nodoka wasn’t sure what she was seeing. But whatever it was, it wasn’t the desperation or despair she had expected. And from what Akane had said, her assigned body slave was responsible for a great deal of that.

She rose to her feet, and Ranma’s eyes dropped to her waist, and the katana and wakizashi there, before lifting again to her face.

The redhead stepped into the room, the other two girls following. “Mom, this is my new friend, Usagi. She’s been a big help over the past month.”

Usagi bowed deeply, eyes widening when Nodoka’s acknowledging bow was as deep as her own. “I am honored to meet the girl that has provided so much aid to my son.”

Nodoka noticed Usagi and Akane glance at each other where they stood on each side of Ranma and slightly behind, Akane’s expression questioning, Usagi shaking her head slightly. Odd. “It’s been my honor to help,” the blonde responded.

“So, what’s with the wakizashi? An’ wearin’ the Saotome Blade instead a’ carryin’ it?” Ranma asked.

Nodoka relaxed even more. It seemed Ranma was as eager to avoid talking about her stay at the Kuno mansion as she was. “I have been busy, since ... in the past four weeks,” she said. “I know I have a long way to go, but Masaki-sensei has pushed me as hard as he could and seemed to be pleased with my progress when he suggested I return home for a time.”

Ranma perked up. “Yosho’s been trainin’ ya? Cool, that old man really knows his stuff!”

Nodoka hesitated. It really wasn’t her affair, surely Masaki-sensei would have said something if it was, but curiosity had been eating at her ever since the monk had contacted Genma and made his offer to train her. “Yes, he said he knew you, when did the two of you meet?” she asked.

Ranma opened her mouth, paused, then finally shook her head. “Sorry, mom, but if Yosho didn’t tell ya, I can’t either — it’s his secret, not mine. I’m sure ya must a’ brought a bokken home with ya, did ya bring two?”

“Of course I did,” Nodoka replied, and smiled as Ranma instantly brightened. “With your father teaching classes in the dojo it will be some hours before it is available, but so long as you avoid your typical acrobatics I believe your room upstairs should work admirably.”

“You’re on!” The redhead almost ran for the stairs, and the woman and two girls left behind exchanged amused glances.

“I guess some things will never change — thankfully,” Akane said, turning to join her fiancé. The other two followed, Usagi giggling.


	28. Lighting the Fuse

Nabiki watched from the Saotomes’ bedroom window as Akane and Ukyo walked out of the house through the family room entrance. The two vanished out of sight around the corner of the house on their way to the front gate, the train station, and a Juuban hospital. The middle Tendo stayed at the window, considering her mixed feelings about this little trip.

Truthfully, she didn’t know how she wanted to feel about it. On the one hand, it would simplify things enormously if Akane wasn’t pregnant. Not only would it free Akane to again become one of the fighters instead of a civilian (and make her easier to live with), but it would put Nabiki back on the original track of pushing Kuno to come after her instead of waffling like she had been. On the other hand, Akane had little enough to bring joy into her life at the moment, and she was practically giddy at the thought of what a pregnancy would mean to Ranma. It had been all Nabiki could do to convince her to hold off a couple of days after Ranma and Usagi’s last visit (and Kodachi, and hadn’t _that_ been a shock) before making the trip, asking her to wait until Dr. Mizuno’s afternoon schedule would be mostly clear and Nabiki could provide a referral from a previous patient to give her a reason to ask for a particular doctor. Not that that had been the _real_ reason, of course....

She finally turned away from the window to face Mu Tse, Xian Pu and Konatsu. “All right, you’ve seen plans I hacked for the rooftop layout for the guards around the center for today’s slave auction,” she said. “Do any of you think there will be any problems keeping the guards away from the catapults long enough for Hiroshi’s team to escape?”

The three exchanged glances. “No, no problem,” Xian Pu replied for them. “Too too stupid guards placed to stop slings, protect each other. Not get to roofs of buildings farther away.”

“Good.” Turning her attention to Ranma’s school friend, she asked, “Hiroshi, is your team ready?”

“Yes, it is,” the brown-haired boy replied. “We’ve tested the catapult ranges, picked roofs where we can put them together without being seen by the guards, done some speed drills for putting them together, studied the escape routes —” He chopped off his babbling of details Nabiki already knew, took a deep breath, and jerked a nod. “We’re ready.”

Nabiki studied him for a moment. His nervousness didn’t surprise her. If anything, she was surprised that it had taken this long to break through — he wasn’t from an obscure tribe of Amazons from the back of beyond or had the twisted childhood Konatsu had lived through, after all. _This is taking too long. And it isn’t just nerves — people are on a knife’s edge right now, but they’ll stay angry only so long. I know Kuno’s been busy the last few weeks, but I never thought he’d hold off from Akane like this._ “Good,” she finally said. “How about Akane’s absence? Any of your people upset about it?”

Hiroshi shook his head. “No. If anything, they’re a little relieved. With her not there, the big guns are less likely to get involved. Speaking of the big guns, why _haven’t_ they gotten involved?”

Nabiki shrugged. “Bigger fish to fry than some vandals. Besides, if the Kuno ninjas grabbed us and turned us over to the police, we’d be back on the streets in a few hours. Thanks to Kuno’s grandfather, any captures or arrests made by the Family’s retainers without direct orders from Kuno-dono aren’t legal, and any evidence they collect independently isn’t useable in court. Kuno’s father never bothered to change the law, since he didn’t bother with using the courts to punish his enemies. And before you ask, no, I don’t know why Kuno hasn’t changed that himself, yet.” She shrugged again. “Maybe he doesn’t like gamblers, they’re the ones that have been taking the biggest hit from our little games.

“At any rate, you have a few hours to get into position, so you’d better get moving.”

The four nodded and left. Nabiki waited for a moment to let them get down the stairs before heading to her room. Once there, she made sure the blinds were closed, then dropped into the seat in front of her computer, shoulders slumped and rubbing at her face as she once again fought the temptation to use her little backdoor into the Kuno computer network to see if she could find anything about Kuno’s plans. _No, your little surprise has to_ stay _a surprise if you want to keep Ranma off a cross or from being run out of the country._ Straightening, the pageboy-haired girl turned to her computer to check her list of special contacts for the umpteenth time. Maybe she should discreetly ask Kasumi to buy some antacid for the churning acid in her gut.

/oOo\

Kasumi sighed as she put the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter. It had taken her a week to work up her courage enough to tell that nice Yamaguchi-san at the grocery store that she had reconsidered his generous offer, and then Auntie Nodoka had returned. Fortunately, she had been distracted by Kasumi’s request that she take care of the laundry. Even now, the eldest Tendo could hear her hopefully-future mother-in-law softly singing to herself through the open kitchen window as the Saotome matron hung up the clean laundry in the back yard. _Good, I’ll have time to get this hidden before anyone sees it._

Emptying the bag of the ingredients for the next several days’ meals, Kasumi lifted a highly polished wooden box up from the bottom. She pulled a key attached to a thin chain around her neck from up out of the neck of her house dress, quickly unlocked the box, lifted the lid, and took the small revolver from its setting. She stared at the weapon for a minute, fighting the churning in her gut, before shaking away her unpleasant thoughts and plucking out the box of bullets from its setting. She carefully loaded the gun, then put it and the rest of the ammo back in the box, locked it, and knelt to unload enough glasses and ceramic bowls from the circular rotating shelves in one of the lower cupboards so she could slip the box into one of the corners behind them before replacing the dishes.

 _So, a few hours before I need to start dinner,_ she thought as she stood up to put away the fresh meat and vegetables. Lifting a hand to her nose, she sniffed, and grimaced. _I can’t have anyone smelling the gunpowder from the practice Yamaguchi insisted on. I think it’s time to clean the furo._

/oOo\

Shinohara Asuma looked up, an eyebrow going up as the perkiest ray of sunshine in the division stepped into his tent. She’d _stepped_ in, instead of bouncing. “Back already? With the training maneuvers over I thought you and Yamazaki were going to check out the local drinking establishments, see if any of the local brews were the equals of the ones back home. I didn’t expect to see you until this evening.”

“We were, until we hit the first three,” Noa replied, and Asuma straightened at the serious tone of the usually lighthearted redhead. “Asuma, I think we ought to expedite switching out the practice ammo for the live rounds.”

Asuma stared at her. “Why?”

“The Nerima Lording’s a powderkeg waiting for a match — even more than we thought — and when the match gets lit, there’s no way the police are going to be able to handle it.”

“And you expect that to happen while we’re still out here, and for us to get involved?” Noa simply gave him a tight smile, and Asuma sighed. “Right, Captain Goto agreed to accept Meioh-san’s offer for a reason, and I haven’t seen or heard of any other possibility, either. Unless the betting pool has other options?”

“There is no betting pool,” Noa admitted. “No one could come up with an idea of what the Captain’s planning that anyone was willing to put money on. Everyone knows we owe Ranma so nobody thinks we’re going to protect the Kunos, but Setsuna can’t think that Captain Goto would sanction an attack on the Kunos, either. We’re law enforcement — we protect people and take down lawbreakers, not engage in high-level assassinations.”

“I have to agree, but Captain Goto must know what he’s doing,” Asuma said. “Go ahead and trade out the ammo, and we’ll see what happens.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Noa said with something closer to her normal bubbly manner, “Hiromi’s already on it. He’s going to move the tanks onto the transports when he’s finished. As soon as that’s done, he’s going to prep and load the powered wings.”

Well, I’m glad you at least pretended to leave the decision up to me,” Asuma said mock-sternly.

Noa grinned back at him at his tent’s entrance. “Hey, you’re a good boss, meaning you ... ah ... give our ‘suggestions’ serious consideration.” The two chuckled for a moment, then Noa added, “You know, it may not be Captain Goto with the plan, this time — maybe he trusts Setsuna have one.” Then she was gone, leaving a suddenly thoughtful superior officer behind.

/oOo\

Ukyo relaxed as she and Akane walked through the front doors of the Juuban General Hospital, and the itch between her shoulderblades faded. That itch had taken up residence as soon as the pair had left the Tendo compound and stayed there for their entire trip, through lording after lording and several train transfers. _I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised our personal spies stuck with us through the whole trip, it isn’t like we were trying to lose them. So, let’s hope that they make the assumption that this little trip is about doing Usagi’s friend a favor, like Nabiki’s hoping for,_ she thought, reaching up to test her reach to the hilt of the battle ax on her back that had replaced her battle spatula after becoming a Saotome.

From the expressions on the face of the guards flanking the doors, they were less than happy about that battle ax, but they’d recognized the two girls’ samurai status from the way they moved, and so hadn’t objected.

The two girls walked up to the front desk, and the platinum blonde secretary sitting there. The young woman had a slave collar around her neck — an actual collar, not the chain that Kuno had used and made standard for all Kuno slaves as soon as he became lord, clearly displayed by the slave’s pageboy haircut —and a name tag with her first (and as a slave officially only) name, Ren. “Saotome Ukyo and Tendo Akane to see Dr. Mizuno,” the former chef said.

After a few seconds’ typing, the secretary frowned. “I don’t see an appointment.”

“We don’t have one,” Ukyo responded, shrugging and pulling a memory stick from her pocket to hand to the secretary. “Could you just pass on that we’d like to see her if she has a spare moment? She comes highly recommended, we’ve traveled all the way from Nerima to see her.”

“Nerima, hm?” the secretary repeated, picking up a reader sitting beside her computer and plugging the stick into it. She quickly scanned the contents of the letter that Nabiki had acquired, the girls had no idea from whom, then reached over to press a stud.

“ _Mizuno here.”_ The voice was that of an older, confident woman.

“Doctor, there are several girls from Nerima here to see you. You were recommended to them by an Andou Hideko, I’m forwarding a letter from her to your reader.”

There was silence for a time, Akane seeming to grow more and more tense as each second ticked by, until the voice came again. _“I have a few minutes, send them up.”_ Akane’s breath gusted out as her shoulders slumped.

“Yes, ma’am.” Ren looked up at the girls, her face expressionless. “Take the elevators to my right, room 304,” she said, handing back the memory stick to Ukyo. Ukyo accepted the stick with a smile and a thanks, and the two girls hurried over to the elevator.

/\

Dr. Mizuno was a tall woman, heart-faced and dark-haired, smile lines around her eyes — and with poorly-hid desperate hope in the eyes those lines framed.

The girls bowed, ignoring the slave collar around the woman’s neck in favor of her professional training. The choice was made easier by the fact that Nabiki had learned that, when the previous Kuno-dono had made his economic assault on the Juuban lording, the more fortunate doctors of the hospital she administered had pooled their resources to purchase those members of the staff who ended up on the auction block and what members of their families they could. They had almost bid themselves into abject poverty, but they’d been able to rescue — if not free — at least their friends and those friends’ youngest children (the latter and their mothers usually coming as package deals that actually reduced the winning bids on their mothers).

Dr. Mizuno returned their bows. “So you’re from Nerima,” she said. “I’m a little surprised that Andou-san would recommend that you come all this way to see me, seeing how she was only passing through, and only saw me because it was a busy enough day to pull an administrator out from behind her desk — Dr. Nishio at the Kuno General Hospital is her usual physician, and that hospital is both larger, and these days better staffed and funded.”

“Yes, well ...” Akane started, broke off. The girls exchanged glances, and she started again. “I’m sure she’d have recommended Dr. Nishio, if we wanted a doctor in our lording. But for why we’re this far out ...” She pulled a memory stick out of her pocket and offered it to the older woman. “On the stick is a letter from Ami.”

Dr. Mizuno froze for a long moment, then reached out a suddenly shaking hand for the memory stick. “You know Ami?” she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“No, we don’t,” Akane replied softly. “But we’ve recently met your daughter’s friend, Usagi; she passed us the letter to deliver. If you have some time to write a letter for Ami, we can pass it back to her the same way.”

For a long minute the doctor clutched the stick to her chest with both hands, almost hyperventilating, before reluctantly setting it aside. Wiping at her cheeks in embarrassment, she said in a husky voice, “That won’t be a problem, I have a large file of letters I’ve written over the past two years. I owe you an incalculable debt. How can I at least begin to repay you?”

“I ... I ...” Akane broke off and took a deep breath, her hands clutched together behind her back. “I would appreciate it if you could test me for pregnancy.”

“For pregnancy? And you didn’t want a doctor in your lording....” Dr. Mizuno sat back down at her desk and gazed at the tense girl in the soft daylight from the window behind her, then nodded and pressed a stud beside her desk monitor. “Toin, please have Amiko come to my office with a blood test kit, angry wife protocol.”

/\

Akane was holding onto what calm she had with both hands. She had tried reading, but couldn’t concentrate on the words. She hadn’t been able to sit still, but there wasn’t room in the office for decent pacing and from the amused glares she was getting Ukyo was about ready to knock her out. Not that Dr. Mizuno would have minded the brief outbreak of violence, if she even noticed any more than she’d noticed the fidgeting. She was at her desk reading her daughter’s letter, a constant smile on her face even as more tears flowed.

Then a chime sounded, and Dr. Mizuno jerked in her seat. Taking a deep breath and grabbing a tissue to scrub at her cheeks, she looked up at the two girls. “Tendo-san, the report on your blood work is in.” Looking back down at her screen with a finger on her trackball, she murmured, “Let’s see — red blood cell count is good, white blood cells a bit high, some more findings you aren’t interested in ... and you’re pregnant.”

“Yes!” Akane was on her feet, whirling, to grab Ukyo’s hands and pull her to her feet into a hug, twirling her around, squealing, “Ranma will be so happy!”

“Easy!” Ukyo laughed as her swinging feet knocked some books off a side table. “That’s enough, Sugar, there’s no room for that, here!”

Blushing, Akane stopped spinning in place, letting go of her friend once Ukyo’s feet were back on the floor. “Sorry,” she muttered as she walked over to pick up the books.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dr. Mizuno assured her, chuckling. “That’s certainly a much happier response than I often saw.” Standing, she offered a memory stick. “Here’s copies of all the letters I’ve written for Ami in the past two years. Again, thank you so much for the opportunity to send these to her.”

Ukyo accepted the stick and the two girls made their farewells and quickly left, Akane almost skipping on the way to the elevators.

/\

“ _Yes! Ranma will be so happy!”_ On the roof of the hospital, Morita Hwa Su winced as the shout was fed into her headphones by the bugs she and her partner had emplaced outside Dr. Mizuno’s office window. Not because of the shout itself — her surveillance equipment was bleeding edge and had automatically damped down the volume before it reached her — but because of the announcement that had preceded it. _She’s pregnant. We are_ so _screwed._ All through the long train ride out to Juuban, she had been hoping that the possibility Hanh had reported after her encounter with the Saotome/Tendo contingent during the raid on the slave smuggling transshipment point would prove false. But it hadn’t, and they had run out of time — things were about to get ugly.

/oOo\

The Master of Servants simply sat at his desk for a time. Pregnant — what he had feared the most. Finally rising to his feet, he strode to the window of his tiny office and stared out over the small garden it looked out on. Usually the peace of the scene was a balm to his soul, but not this time, not when the peace was temporary at best, illusory at worst. _Kuno-dono is_ not _going to take this well, not at all. Of course, you don’t have to tell him...._ For a time Pyo considered the idea, but finally shook his head. _Whenever Kuno-dono learns of it his reaction will be the same, and the backlash is likely to be the same. All putting it off will do is give Nabiki more time to spread her tentacles throughout the lording. I don’t know what she’s up to with her pointless attacks on the slave auctions and her ludicrous cover of Saotome-san’s classes to organize them, but that just means I’m missing something — and against someone of Nabiki’s caliber, that is dangerous. No, best to strike now and get it over with. Perhaps this way, the damage will be reduced._

With a sigh, he turned away from the window to return to his desk and hit a speed dial stud. When the face of his lord’s secretary appeared on his viewscreen, he forced a thin smile. “Itsuko, please notify Kuno-dono that I need to speak with him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm almost completely winging it with the “Patlabor” characters, since I know next to nothing about the series. Good thing this is an extremely AU fanfic....


	29. Igniting the Charge

Kuno sighed as he read over the report of the latest assault on the auction center, and the destruction of yet another massive, very expensive viewscreen. Considering the cost that was piling up, he was beginning to rethink his decision to let a response wait until things elsewhere had calmed down and he was able to bring home the Neriman contingent of the Kuno Family security forces for their normal duties. He had hoped that wouldn’t be necessary, that the attacks would eventually end in Ranma’s continuing absence, but it wasn’t happening.

_So, Ranma’s foul taint yet pervades my lording,_ he thought as he toggled the ‘viewed’ button. _I would have thought that with physical absence his evil would abate, but there have been no signs of that happening — the lording roils with discontent, and Akane has yet to shake off his hold on her mind. Though at least I have rescued_ one _of his victims. Truly, Ranko has slipped free of his malign influence and now walks free in the light._

But even there, there was reason for concern, and his melancholy deepened as he considered the fiery-haired center of his life. Since day of the sweep up and execution of the otokodate involved in smuggling slaves and running illegal brothels, there had been something missing from their mutual pleasures. The young woman he had freed from the clutches of the sorcerer Saotome still gave every indication of enjoying their shared explorations of the arts of pleasure, but she seemed ... distant, slightly aloof, unfocused. And after he would fall asleep, she would slip away to spend the night in the arms of her body slave.

_Perhaps the time has come to seek the help of a healer of the mind. Doing so will deeply offend her warrior spirit, but the wounds inflicted on her gentle soul by what she did and saw do not seem to be mending._

He was still debating whether it would do more damage to a third of his soul to insist she visit a psychiatrist or ignore her pain and hope the nights sleeping alongside her friend might eventually heal her, when his secretary interrupted to inform him of the Master of Servants’ call.

/\

“Pregnant!” Kuno jerked to his feet, hands clenched into fists and face twisted by hatred. “I see it now! _This_ is how that foul blot on humanity has kept the shadow of his influence over the fair Akane even in his absence. With his demonic seed implanted in her womb, he is using a woman’s natural love for her child to strengthen his hold, maintain his spell over her! And not just her, the radiant malignant taint must impose his twisted desires on all those around her!”

“But my lord,” came Pyo’s voice from his monitor, “The beauteous Ranko has visited the Tendos twice now, with no evidence of Ranma’s influence.”

Kuno shook his head, uncaring that his Master of Servants couldn’t see him. “Her exposure was slight, and she has the constant wholesome influence of the young Usagi to wash away any ill effects, along with my own soothing presence in the dojo, dining room and bedroom in the evenings. No, we must act to expunge this cancer from among us.”

“Kuno-dono, would that not violate the oath you swore to Ranma to leave Akane undisturbed so long as he absences himself from Nerima?”

Kuno hesitated, but finally shook his head. “Nay, for in leaving behind this piece of himself to maintain his hold and spread his poison, he has never in good faith held to his oath and we are free to act. Find the glorious Tendo Akane and bring her to my home, that we may rid her of this vile malignancy and offer her the peace and companionship she will need to heal from her ordeal.”

The Master of Servants sighed. “Yes, my lord, it will be done.”

/\

Call long over, Pyo stared at the cherry tree in bloom pictured on his monitor, feeling the weariness that had been weighing on him pressing down stronger than ever — the conversation with his lord had gone pretty much as expected, but not apparently as he had subconsciously hoped. Finally straightening, he took a deep breath. _All right, Jun Si, if it is to be done, it is best done quickly. Time to move._

He reached forward to hit a speed dial button, then leaned back and waited as his monitor divided and subdivided into blank squares. With six blank squares, he said, “Activate.” Five of the squares lit up, the black replaced by the faces of four men and a woman.

Without preamble, he said, “Akane has had herself tested, and she is pregnant. I’ve reported this to Kuno-dono, and he ordered that the pregnancy be terminated and she be held here until she accepts him.”

None of the faces showed any surprise, and the Master or Servants smiled humorlessly. “Not a great shock to anyone, I see. Very well, Clean Sweep is active. Shuzo, inform the Mentalist that his presence is finally required, and prepare the room where we will be holding the rituals. We will acquire Ranma when the Mentalist has arrived.”

Shuzo wordlessly bowed his head and vanished.

“Mai, have your team deal with Ukyo and bring Akane here, and activate the replacements for their cell phones.”

The woman nodded with a grimace, before vanishing.

“Rangi, make the call to Konatsu for our trap. Activate it unless you hear from me countermanding it.”

A second man bowed and vanished.

“Tagashashi, Kidlat, send out the alert to our people around the Tendos and the Cat Café, but do not send out the strike orders until I give final permission.”

The last two faces bowed and vanished, and Pyo slumped back in his chair and closed his eyes. He had never felt so old.

/oOo\

Konatsu frowned slightly as the lovely cross-dressing kunoichi watched Mu Tse and Xian Pu roof-hop away toward the Cat Café, then twitched as he heard the short tune indicating a new job request sounded in his ear piece. Glancing around to verify his sense that he wasn’t being observed, he pulled his phone out of its belt pouch and checked the number — a familiar client, always asking for a short run, hours only. _I should be able to make the delivery and be home shortly after Ukyo-sama and Akane return._ Hitting the speed button that would signal Nabiki that he was making a courier run, he pocketed the phone and started his own bouncing run across the rooftops toward the edge of the Nerima lording.

/\

Raven pony-tail swinging out over the multi-story drop, Konatsu hurriedly grasped the edge of the fire escape above the railing he’d landed on, barely in time to keep from falling. As he stepped down onto the fire escape landing and knocked on the steel shutter covering the window, the world’s greatest male kunoichi mentally berated himself — that had been clumsy, and entirely his fault. But then, he was a bit distracted.

First, he was here, and Ukyo-sama was accompanying Akane to Juuban. He understood why, he’d been needed for the latest attack on the slave auction center in case the new security had its act together more than Nabiki’s hacked plans showed. They hadn’t, but they could have. Besides, Ukyo-sama had pointed out that, for this trip, Akane would probably be more comfortable if he wasn’t along.

Second, there had been something ... off ... about Mu Tse and Xian Pu, during the raid. Nothing he could pin down, they’d certainly been alert (not that the alertness had been needed, the security hadn’t made it across to the buildings where the catapults were — he expected a helicopter or two to be in the air next time). But he couldn’t escape the feeling that they hadn’t really wanted to be there.

_Enough, Konatsu, worry about it later,_ he thought to himself as he heard the shutter unlatching. _If you don’t concentrate on the job, you aren’t going to have any — no one’s going to hire a discreet courier who loses her package, after all. And money’s tight, even with the classes Saotome-san has started up._

The shutter swung inward, and Konatsu stepped down into the small room behind it. It hadn’t changed since the first time he’d entered it months before — tatami mats on the floor, bare walls, and a desk in the middle of the room facing the window, without a single object sitting on it other than the omnipresent built-in computer monitor. His contact, Leoso-san (Konatsu assumed a false name), hadn’t changed either, and Konatsu stepped to the side as the heavy-set man finished closing and relatching the shutter. Konatsu suspected the man was a Maori from both size and name, though he lacked the tattoos still favored by those of his people that refused to adopt their conquerors’ culture.

Task done, Leoso-san walked heavily back to the desk and sat down. Konatsu followed him to stand in front of the desk, careful to keep his face blank. Something was wrong. He had met this man over a hand of times, and his contact didn’t know that the breathtakingly beautiful woman standing in front of him wasn’t a woman, and hadn’t bother to hide how much he enjoyed the view. But now that enjoyment was gone, Leoso-san’s face emotionless.

The contact sat down and stared at Konatsu for a long moment, before his emotionless mask failed, replaced by sorrow. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and pressed a button on the desk.

Konatsu’s dive to one side took him directly into the path of one of the anti-personnel mines built in around the edges of the room’s floor and ceiling, not that it would have made a difference. The two men were so badly shredded by the thousands of tiny steel balls that laced the room that a forensics laboratory would be required to identify their sex.

/oOo\

Ukyo nervously glanced around the dilapidated but clean train car she and Akane were riding in, the first train on their return trip from Juuban to Nerima. The itch between her shoulderblades was back.

_Of course it’s back, Sugar, what did you expect? Kuno’s thugs may not have followed us into the hospital, but you know they followed us all the way there. Of course they picked us up again when we left._ Looking discreetly around the car, mostly empty at this time of day, she couldn’t see anyone obviously watching the two girls. But then, these would be ninjas — she wouldn’t.

She glanced sideways at her friend sitting beside her with a rueful smile. If Akane had felt the eyes following them on the trip out, she certainly wasn’t feeling them on the way back. The youngest Tendo’s eyes were unfocused, a soft smile on her face. All she’d been able to talk about on the walk back to the train station (with a long break in the middle for a late lunch, now that Akane’s relief had given her back her appetite) had been how happy Ranma would be, and how once they finally dealt with Kuno they’d finish their schooling and teach at the dojo along with Genma and raise a family while integrating the schools. But while it was good to see the girl shaken out of her angry depression and Ukyo hoped it lasted, now was not the time to be daydreaming.

The train jolted slightly as it began to slow down, and Ukyo glanced up at the semi-functioning display, finding enough readable letters to recognize the destination, and nudged Akane. “Hey, Sugar, wake up, this is our stop,” she murmured.

Akane jerked, her eyes focusing. “Already?”

“Yeah, ‘already’,” Ukyo replied with a chuckle. “You’ve been zoned out pretty bad.”

Akane blushed. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, I’m glad you’re happy. Just pay more attention.”

The train came to a stop, and the two girls moved to the doors as they slid open. They were just stepping out, when Ukyo stiffened. The platform was empty. Even in mid-afternoon before the workday ended, there should be at least a _few_ people waiting to board.

Even as she grabbed Akane’s shoulder with one hand while the other reached for the haft of her battle ax, two women in standard samurai pants and blouses and holding short spears arced over the two girls from the roof of the train to land in front of them, the spears leveled. Akane dove out and to one side, but before Ukyo could move an arm circled her neck and pain arced her back as a blade pierced her side. Then a spear blade slammed into her chest, the other took her in the throat, she was falling backward into the car, and she heard Akane screaming her name as her view of the car’s roof slowly faded into night.

/\

Akane rolled to her feet, turning, arms lifted ready to knock aside incoming spear blades — only the were no spears thrusting toward her, and she shrieked her friend’s name at the sight of the two women driving their spears through the train car doorway, blood spraying back to meet them. She sprang forward, and one hand hammered into the back of one attacker’s neck, snapping it with a wet crack.

The other woman whipped around to face Akane, frantically backing up, arms lifting to parry, but Akane charged, cartilage buckling under her fist as her strike blew through the block to slam into her attacker’s throat. The woman stepped back, hands rising as she sucked air into her lungs through her partially collapsed throat, and ribs crunched as Akane’s side kick knocked the woman off her feet.

As the woman convulsed on the ground, aspirating blood thanks to the ribs in her lungs, Akane whirled to step over the body of the first attacker and into the train car. “Uc-chan?” she whispered.

Ukyo lay on her back on top of another dead woman, a knife hilt flush against her side and both spears standing upright in her chest — they must have gone completely through and into the woman behind her. Her sightless eyes stared at the ceiling.

“Oh, Ukyo — may the Saotome ancestors receive you in the next life as Genma and Nodoka did in this one.” Akane dropped to one knee in the pooling blood around her friend’s body and reached down to close her eyes, then stood. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she checked the screen. As expected, no reception — she was being jammed. She grasped the shaft of one of the spears and steadily pulled, slowly pulling it out without further damaging the body, then the other. Ignoring the tears streaming down her cheeks and with a spear in her hands, she turned and stepped through the still open car door. Also as she had expected, a new line of women were on the platform, a half-circle around the doorway, staves in hand.

Akane’s anger had always burned hot, bursting out in brief eruptions. Now, though, she felt icy to the core. “So, which of you murdering bitches dies first?” she asked, voice cold as the frozen north.

None of the women spoke. Instead, they lifted small blowguns to their mouths and suddenly Akane felt the pinpricks of multiple darts piercing her clothing and into her chest and abdomen.

/oOo\

Pyo kept his face calm as Mai finished her report. “ ... so we have Ukyo and Akane’s phones plugged in for voice alteration and on the way to the Funabashi lording. The train’s sabotage is ready, so as planned, we’ll be able to call the Tendo dojo when the time comes and report that the girls will be late.”

Waiting for a long moment to make certain his subordinate was finished, he nodded. “And the bodies?”

“Our four and Ukyo are on their way to the mansion along with Chu-lan,” Mai replied. “They are being treated with all honor.”

“Most excellent. Let me know when the call has been made, and your assessment of Nabiki’s reaction.”

Mai bowed and signed off, and Pyo leaned back in his seat and sighed, rubbing his face. _Five of my people dead and one possibly crippled so far, and Clean Sweep has barely started. And none of them necessary._ The same drugged darts that finally brought down Akane could have just as easily been used to bring down Ukyo as well, then she could have been killed with no risk to the strike team. But instead Kana, Se Wook and Moe had all volunteered to deal with the adopted Saotome personally and paid with their lives, and then Nani-ali’i had been killed and Chu-lan severely wounded by the spears used to kill Ukyo, thrown by Akane before she finally collapsed. And Leoso had disabled the trap door underneath his chair before Konatsu had arrived. _My people are following their orders as honor requires, but they are_ not _happy about it — and demonstrating that unhappiness with their lives. What happens when they actually assault the Tendo compound?_

/oOo\

Nabiki stared out her window at the gathering shadows, nerves that had already been tight when her sister left now almost at the snapping point. Akane and Ukyo were late — well, not late for their revised schedule, that still had some time left....

But both times Akane had called, first to report that their connecting train had suffered a breakdown and later to say that it was fixed and on the move and ask what the revised timetable would be, something had been off. Nabiki couldn’t put her finger on it, and on the face of it there was nothing out of the ordinary — Akane had been practically giddy with happiness that she was pregnant, frustrated by the delay getting home — but something about the conversation had set off an alarm in the back of her older sister’s subconscious. Still, the delay was real, both the news and the online real time tracking for the transportation network had reported it.

She heard someone walking down the hallway toward her door, and then a knock. “Nabiki, can you come down to eat?” Kasumi asked through the door. “We won’t wait for Akane and Ukyo, I’ve put their plates on a warmer.”

“Sure, big sis, I’ll be right there,” Nabiki called back. The sound of Kasumi walking back toward the stairs came through the door as Nabiki sat down at her computer to put it on standby.

/oOo\

Xian Pu looked around the mostly-empty dining room of the Cat Café, and winced. The sun was setting, and the café should have been packed. But ever since Ranma was auctioned off business had been falling off, and those customers that _did_ show up ate and left quickly and weren’t tipping as they had before. The _drinking_ establishments were doing a booming business, but Mu Tse reported that it wasn’t a _happy_ business, you could cut the tension in the lording with a knife.

As she delivered the latest order to her great-grandmother, Xian Pu paused at a sudden thought — she was taking the business of the Cat Café seriously, instead of considering it as the excuse to stay in Nerima that it really was. After a moment she shook her head with a slight chuckle. She was going native, actually coming to _like_ living here — and just as she was reaching that point, they were going to be returning to the village.

_However it turns out,_ she thought, mood darkening with guilt and shame. When the final act played out, she would not be there. Neither would Mu Tse or Great-Grandmother — watching the catapults firing their rocks at the latest massive viewscreen, she’d decided the risk to the village of being seen to be that deeply involved was simply too great. She had advised her great-grandmother that they remain until it was over so that they could unlock Ranma’s Jusenkyo curse but do no more, and as soon as that was done return to Nyuchiehzu. Ku Lon had agreed.

“Xian Pu,” Ku Lon called from the kitchen, “you have a delivery.”

Xian Pu glanced again around the dining room and shrugged, before turning to her want-to-be fiancé standing by the back wall, waiting for a table to clear so he’d have something to do. “Duck Boy think can handle crush?” she asked with a grin.

Mu Tse surveyed the few customers. “Yes, I believe so,” he replied with a chuckle. The news that they’d be dropping their support and eventually returning to the village had done wonders for him, her childhood friend was peeking through the mask of the love-besotted fool that had been so annoying — something that eased the pain of losing Ranma, however it turned out.

Almost bounding into the backroom, the young Amazon hastily pulled on the pants she wore under her skimpy dress when making deliveries, and grabbed her bike — Mu Tse wasn’t the only one bored from the lack of business.

Ku Lon chuckled at her chosen heir’s antics as she handed her the box and a slip of paper with an address she recognized as an old customer. “Be careful,” the Matriarch warned as Xian Pu opened the door and pushed the bike through into the alleyway.

Xian Pu gave her mentor a confident grin as she hopped on the bike. “Who be too too stupid to bother me?”

Ku Lon bounded up to rap her on the head. “Don’t be overconfident! It’s dusk, things are getting dangerous, and even the most skilled can have a bad day.”

“Yes, Great-Grandmother, Shampoo be careful,” Xian Pu agreed, rubbing her head, before putting the takeout in the bike’s basket and starting down the alleyway.

/\

In the watch post across from the Cat Café, Abe Kyoji rubbed at tired eyes before refocusing on the stacked square of multiple monitors showing views all around the restaurant. While keeping an eye on such powerful outsiders was important, for years it had been a light duty post, a place for Kuno ninjas to relax and recuperate while the pattern recognition software did the work. No longer.

Both of the outpost’s occupants twitched at the sound of a soft beep, and Sasaki Sik Won leaned back in his chair. “Fifteen minutes,” he murmured.

Kyoji was opening his mouth to make some meaningless lighthearted response to lessen the tension, when one of the screens flashed. He leaned forward, tensing up at what he saw — a purple-haired teenager hopping on her bike in the alley behind the café, a box of takeout in the bike’s basket. “Oh, shit! Shampoo’s leaving on a delivery!” he blurted, hand fumbling at the latch of a plastic cover on the panel.

Sik Won whirled to his vidphone and hit a speed dial button. Within moments, Pyo-sensei appeared on the screen. “Sensei, Shampoo is leaving on a delivery right now!” Sik Won almost shouted.

Pyo-sensei blanched. “Go!” he ordered.

Behind Sik Won, Kyoji’s hand slammed down on the button the opened cover revealed.

/\

When the Amazons had first arrived in Nerima and set up the Cat Café, the Kuno ninjas had taken their measure and found them terrifying. True, neither of the teenagers could match Kuno-dono’s retainers for stealth. But then, stealth had never exactly been one of their concerns and few of the ninja could match them in combat. And Ku Lon _was_ a match for the ninjas in stealth, at least — they’d never succeeded in determining her upper limit. And she was even worse in combat, she’d _helped train_ the killer of Saffron!

And so months before Kuno the Elder’s death, on the Master of Servant’s own initiative, his subordinates had prepared the only defense they could think of that would guarantee that they could deal with the all possible vipers in the heart of their lording. Using an extensive clean up and survey of the sewers underneath the lording as an excuse, workers with absolutely no training in the Arts or in ki manipulation (and so unlikely to come to Ku Lon’s attention) had planted enough high explosives under the Cat Café to reduce a building three times its size to flaming wreckage.

But now their timing was just a few seconds off, and when the massive explosion hurled the shattered, flaming pieces of the Cat Café — along with the buildings on either side and on the other side of the back alley, and a chunk of road halfway across the street — into the air and the surrounding buildings, Xian Pu was already across the road and pedaling along the sidewalk toward an alley leading to their customer.

The Amazon Champion had no warning at all, but her great-grandmother had known that a warrior’s worst danger was ambush and so had trained her heir until the teenager’s reactions to a multitude of attacks were instinctual. So when the blst front picked her up and hurled her at the shop beside her, the same ki-powered focused shockwave than enabled her to ride her bike through walls blew out the large display window ... and the interior wall behind it, and the back exterior wall. She rolled across the bricks of the back alley and used the momentum to hurl herself at the back wall of the building on the other side ... and as the shop that should have been both her killer and her tomb was smashed apart by the shock wave and rubble, collapsing to fill the alley with debris and shake the building behind it, Xian Pu blew through the shelves that had been against the inside of her new refuge’s exterior wall and slid across the concrete floor to slam up against the storeroom door. The teenager slowly rolled to her hands and knees, choking and coughing on the rock dust that filled the air through the entrance hole she’d made, covered with splinters and bits and pieces of plaster and brick and concrete — just as the outer wall collapsed under the battering it had just taken.

/oOo\

“Fifteen minutes,” Jang Ma-zhi murmured into his throat mic from his position on the opposite slope of a house roof across the street from the Tendo compound. “Remember Pyo-sensei’s revised instructions, Kasumi and Nodoka are to be ignored if they allow it, the only primary targets are Genma and Nabiki. Acknowledge.”

The acknowledgments rolled in, in order down the circle around the compound. Ma-zhi rolled onto his back and stared for a moment at the first stars appearing in the dusky sky as he listened. He wondered what had led to the target revision — not that he was complaining, far from it, but Pyo-sensei had seemed adamant about removing anyone that might either be a direct threat or call attention to the planned mental alterations of Ranma and Akane. And he doubted he was the only one that had felt relief at the modified orders. It had to be his imagination, but he seemed to hear a new easing of tension in the rolling acknow —

The massive shock of the explosion rolled over his thoughts, and he clutched at his handholds on the suddenly shuddering roof. _What was that!?_ he thought, jerking upright and staring ... at a massive spreading column of smoke and dust at the location of the Cat Café. The mine had been set off early! But that meant ... “Go, now! Go! Go! Go!” he shouted into his mic, and threw himself over the peak of the roof to slide down the slope toward the street.

/\

Nabiki, Kasumi, Nodoka and Genma were halfway through their evening meal when the shockwave of the explosion washed over the compound. Nabiki’s head shot up as the Tendo home shook. “What was that!” she shouted as she sprang up from the traditional low table, leading the dash out into the yard. The four stared at the rising column of smoke visible in the darkening sky.

“Oh, my, that must have been the Cat Café,” Kasumi whispered. “But what could have happened?”

“What happened is Kuno,” Nabiki ground out, feeling suddenly sick — the calls from Akane hadn’t actually been from Akane, Kuno was finally making his move, and she had never _dreamed_ that he would be this ruthless.

Nabiki wasn’t the only one suddenly feeling sick. Genma closed his eyes, reaching out for the feel of the ki around him, past his wife and future daughters by marriage, further ... further ... and there they were. They were good at hiding themselves, but not as good as he was, and they were coming down off the roofs around the compound, crossing the street — and the three martial artists he’d counted on to fight beside him when this night came weren’t here, and their backup had just been obliterated. His eyes snapped open. “You’re right, they’re coming. Into the house now, Nabiki’s room!”

Nabiki whirled and dashed for the house, Kasumi right behind her. Nodoka drew the Saotome honor blade as her eyes ran the length of the top of the wall, then turned and followed, Genma behind her. The two dashed through the twists in the hallway, up the stairs, and down the upstairs first hallway to the T-intersection and Nabiki’s room in the center.

Nodoka rushed through the open doorway, Genma right behind her turning to close the door only to freeze when his wife asked, “Nabiki, where’s Kasumi?”

Nabiki looked up from her seat in front of her desktop computer, glancing around frantically. “What?! I thought she was right behind me!” She shot to her feet, and stepped toward the door only to stop, fists clenched at her side. _I can’t, I have to do this before we die, or it’s all pointless. Oh, Kas-chan ..._

She sat back down, just as the lights went out. Her computer screen flickered as it switched to its battery. “Candles and matches on top of my bookshelf,” she said without looking up. She ignored Nodoka passing behind her to fetch them, fingers flying across a keyboard barely visible in the light from the monitor. _Yup, they cut the landline for the Net and are jamming the wireless. And I thought I was being paranoid when I quietly set up a second landline. And ... yes! They still haven’t found my backdoor into the Kuno network. Activating virus ... there’s the all clear, now out clean..._ Her shoulders slumped with relief as the connection closed down. That took care of the knife in the back, now for the hammer to the chest. She hastily brought up another preprogrammed routine, typed in the activation code, typed in the verification code, and the second verification code, and sighed with relief as the ‘action completed’ button popped up. Her part was done, now she just needed to learn if she and her immediate family were going to live through the next half hour.

/\

Nabiki had been _very_ impressed by her meeting with Juan de Oro what seemed like a lifetime ago, and had wondered how the same Bible that had produced Shinto Christianity, with its strong pacifistic streak, could produce such a man. And so in what little spare time she’d had since their meeting she had picked up and dove into a copy of the Bible, though the local Shinto Christians from whom she’d acquired it would have been appalled at _which_ sections she was focusing on.

Now, one of the results of that study flashed out across Nerima, and people broke off whatever they were doing as piercing squeals, slight electric shocks, massively vibrating phones — whatever their chosen signal for an emergency alert — grabbed their attention. The disparate group was made up of men and some women, from late teens to almost elderly, respected local businessmen to almost beggars. The one thing they all had in common was that within arm’s reach was one of the staves Genma had handed out at his classes, and they all listened to the message that made official what the explosion that had shaken Nerima had already told them. The time had come.

For every person contacted, the prerecorded message was the same — Nabiki’s voice, cold as ice and hard as steel, reciting the Biblical verse that had become her mantra since she had first read it:

“ _Remember what the Amalekites did to you along the way when you came out of Egypt. When you were weary and worn out, they met you on your journey and attacked all who were lagging behind; they had no fear of God. When the Lord your God gives you rest from all the enemies around you in the land he is giving you to possess as an inheritance, you shall blot out the name of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first read the Bible the verses I ended this episode with didn't impress me, being stuck in the middle of one of the more boring parts (Deuteronomy — not as bad as Leviticus or parts of Numbers or Chronicles, but bad enough). Then I eventually read _Not for Glory_ , a scifi book by Joel Rosenberg set in an interstellar future where the Jews were driven off of Earth and are now supporting themselves as mercenaries. If I remember correctly, at one point the protagonist remembers how his uncle had turned a unit of worn out, beaten, demoralized soldiers into raving fanatics against their proudly Germanic (then current) enemies with a speech that ended with this quote. It's stuck with me ever since. (It also left the protagonist more than a bit prejudiced against those peoples proud of their German descent; not all wounds are physical, and sometimes those are the hardest to heal.)
> 
> The names of the ninja are Japanese, Chinese, Maori, Korean, Philippino, and Hawaiian, reflecting the size of the Empire and the extent of the Kuno Family holdings.


	30. Brennschluss!

Kasumi was on her knees in the kitchen, carefully removing the glasses and ceramic bowls from the cabinet in which she’d hidden her gift just a few days before and setting them to the side. The need to hurry was burning within her, so strong she literally ached. But so, too, was the need to be absolutely silent, a hole in the air — and more than that, she simply couldn’t bring herself to throw dishes around.

The last of the glassware out of the way, Kasumi reached back behind the round turntable of the shelves, grasped the box ... and gasped, freezing in place when the lights abruptly went out.

A few seconds later, in the absolute silence of the house, she heard the faint creak of the door to the yard opening, and could _feel_ the presence of another person join her in the kitchen. Her head turned as if it had a life of its own, and she looked up to stare at the figure barely visible in what little light was coming through the kitchen window and now-open doorway, the loose, dark-mottled clothing and hood making it almost impossible to tell where the edges were, much less determine sex.

The figure stared at her for a long moment, then turned and seemed to float away across the room and through the doorway into the house. Another figure followed the first, and another, and a third.

As the last figure vanished deeper into the house, Kasumi collapsed from her knees onto her side on the cool floor, curled herself around the box in her hands, and shook.

/\

Nodoka gasped as the lights went out.

“Candles and matches on top of my bookshelf,” Nabiki said without looking up, fingers flying over her desktop computer’s keyboard as if the room was still brightly lit.

The Saotome matriarch looked around as her eyes adjusted to the dark, spotted the dark outline of a candle on top of the bookshelf beyond the middle Tendo, and started to walk past her toward the shelf only to pause when her husband gripped her shoulder from behind.

“No,” he murmured. “There’s enough light once your eyes adjust. Lighting candles means flickering light, having no night vision if they get put out, and a possible fire hazard. Very bad, that last, if the house catches on fire they can set up a ring outside and wait for us to come to them out in the open.”

“I understand,” Nodoka replied quietly. “Where do you want me?”

Genma glanced around. The room was wide enough for his wife to use the katana clutched in her hands but that held for the ninjas as well, the bed underneath the open window ... “You take the doorway, I’ll take the window.”

As Nodoka nodded and turned back to stand ready in front of the door, Nabiki slumped back in her seat. “Done,” she murmured, then glanced around. “Kasumi?”

“I don’t know,” Genma replied, his focus on the window. “We thought she was right behind you, and we can’t go looking for her. Get down underneath your desk, that should keep you out of the way and their attention on me and No-chan.”

“Right.” Nabiki stood, shoved her chair around so that it was against the wall beside her computer desk, then crouched and curled herself inside the little space now available.

Hearing the short exchange behind her, Nodoka smiled happily. He had called her No-chan, and he wasn’t trying to hide anything or begging for forgiveness. She knew her husband loved her, but Genma wasn’t a man that revealed his softer side easily. But he’d called her No-chan.

Then the happy moment was over as the door slammed open, and she slid forward in a perfect cross-slice, blood flicking across the wall as she disemboweled the first ninja charging through the doorway.

/oOo\

Pluto stood in front of the Gates, the fuku-clad Senshi of Time’s fists clenched around the shaft of the Time Staff and every muscle taut as she watched the image of Nabiki’s face, the teenager’s features lit by the light from her monitor as she typed away furiously. Then the middle Tendo sighed as she slumped back in her seat. “Done,” she murmured.

Pluto froze the scene. _Yes,_ that’s _the point, the trap is set and the alert sent, and it isn’t so far in the past that I’ll set up a paradox. Now to find my Knight,_ she thought, remembering a discussion of chess versus go with Katsuhito. She silently ordered the Gates to find a particular personal signature, and nodded satisfaction as the frozen image of Ryoga appeared in front of her. The large, less-than-clean befanged teenager was ... in the rain forest of the Oregon Coast Range shortly after dawn, apparently breaking camp and getting ready for another night of stalking Kuno territory — though he had been _very_ careful since the refinery strike. She suspected that the extent of the chain reaction he had unleashed had stunned him as much as it had everyone else, though praise all the Powers, he hadn’t killed anyone, neither in the attack nor in the days of fighting the out of control fires.

Her destination pinpointed, Pluto _stepped_ and was instantly at the edge of the clearing where her target had spent the night. “Ryoga!” she yelled, running into the clearing. “The Tendos are being attacked, they need you _now_!”

“What!?” he yelled, dropping the tent he was folding as he whirled and fell into a defensive stance at the sound of her shout. He stared at his sudden visitor, face going pale as the words registered through his shock at her abrupt appearance.

“The Kuno ninjas are over the walls and entering the house as we speak,” Pluto said urgently. “Akane, Ukyo and Konatsu aren’t there, the Saotomes, Nabiki and Kasumi are alone and need you now, _go_!”

Without another word, the Lost Boy grabbed his umbrella and was off, charging into the woods at a dead run.

Pluto watched him vanish from sight, and nodded as the sounds of he made running through the woods abruptly cut off. He was gone. _All right, you’ve done what you can for the Tendos, the coin flip will go their way or it won’t. Now to mine the silver from the lining of this typhoon._ With a _step_ , the clearing was empty except for a crusader’s abandoned bedroll, tent and backpack.

/oOo\

Xian Pu awoke, and opened her eyes to utter darkness, not a hint of light. What ... where was she ... ? A slow night at the Cat Café, a delivery to break the tedium, pedaling off on her bicycle ... the explosion! She surged to her feet, scattering the thin layer of rubble covering her, then dropped to her knees, choking and hacking in the concrete-dusty air, hands clutching at her temples as a spike of pain slammed into the center of her forehead. She mewed in pain, then leaned over and emptied her stomach of her early dinner.

Finally, she wiped her mouth as she looked around. The outer wall on the back alley was gone, the rubble that had covered her the bottom of a slope of debris that was all that was left of the building across the street from the Cat Café. The café!

Shakily forcing herself to her feet, she slowly staggered up the shifting slope. She reached the top, took one look at the scene before her, and again fell to her knees, tears cutting through the brick and cement dust that coated her face, pounding headache forgotten.

The Cat Café was gone. Not even a pile of rubble, where the building had stood was a deep crater rapidly filling with water from ruptured pipes. No one within that building could have survived, not even someone as powerful as her great-grandmother, not without some sort of warning. And there had been no warning. Her great-grandmother and childhood friend were gone.

For a time she simply knelt and stared, mind wiped clean by her pain, until finally a single thought forced its way through: why now? Not ‘what happened’ or ‘who did this’, the answers to those were obvious, but why now? The Amazons hadn’t done anything, except join in the attacks on the auction center viewscreen....

_But we_ did _join those attacks, didn’t we? The attacks may not have been much, but they showed we stand with the Tendos. And if Kuno has moved against_ us _now, then —_ “The dojo!”

She forced herself to her feet and drew on her ki reserves, emotional and physical pain pushed to the side, and skip-slid down the side of the slope back into the alley. On firm ground, she paused to pull a couple of pieces of wood two-by-four bracing from the rubble, then broke into a run to the street and took to the roofs across the lording toward the Tendo compound.

/oOo\

Genma heard the (thankfully male) shriek of mortal pain behind him, even as his first vacuum blade ripped out and the window in front of him exploded in splinters, plaster dust and blood, the halves left of the first ninja trying to swing in through the window dropping outside to the lawn below. Then his second vacuum blade tore away even more of the sides of the window, and the third.

Behind him, Nodoka’s follow through from her first kill sliced into her second ninja’s neck, and she stepped to the side to avoid the collapsing now-headless corpse as its blood splashed diagonally across her chest. The third ninja jerked back into the hallway, stepped to the side, and the doorway was empty.

She waited, no more came. Nor was there sound from behind her. Keeping her gaze fixed on the doorway, she whispered, “Genma?”

“I’m fine, you?”

“I’m fine. What’s going on? Why aren’t they attacking?”

“I think you surprised them. They expected to be facing a master, and a typical student with one month’s training. Now, they’ll be considering how to deal with what they really face.”

“And what will they decide?”

Before Genma could reply, the shadows of more figures appeared in doorway and window, and even as blood splashed across the bed as a bisected body landed on it and Nodoka’s blade slashed across a face at eye level, another ninja dove forward to tackle the Saotome matriarch, sending her tumbling back to the floor beside the computer desk.

The pair rolled over, the ninja coming out on top while two more charged through the vacated space, knives in hand. Genma turned at his wife’s shouted warning and caught both thrusting knife hands, bones crunching under his grip. He yanked his shrieking attackers toward him, let go of the wrists to reach up and grab windpipes and _crush_ — just as he felt an arm circle his throat.

Even as the knife slammed home in his lower back, he threw himself and his attacker backward toward the window, the two sweeping another ninja off the window sill. He felt the knife stab home twice more before they hit the ground, the ribs of the ninja beneath him crunching with the impact.

Genma rolled to his feet, ignoring the dying ninja as the one he’d knocked off the window sill was joined by two more — No-chan was alone up there, he had to get back! The ninjas spread out and charged forward, wakizashi in hand, only to find empty space as Genma spun around and leaped for the dark hole of the window. But another ninja from the window sill and one from the roof dove out to intercept him. Twisting in mid-air, he kicked one away as the other flew through where he’d just been — and pain from his wounds flashed through him as he slammed into the side of the house below the window and fell to the ground below.

Hauling himself to his feet, he made come hither motions to the three ninja forming a half-circle around him — no, four — doing his best to hide how he was weakening as blood ran down his side and back and legs from the knife wounds. Instead of immediately charging, they backed up and spread out, making room for another mottled-dark-clad ninja. He took advantage of their hesitation to reach for the Umisenken, wrap it around him ... only to have the comforting blanket of concealing ki shiver and shred as pain and blood loss shredded his concentration.

They began their charge, another vacuum blade ripped out, spread as wide as possible, and as three of the ninjas exploded in misty clouds of blood in the moonlight, Genma realized he’d made a mistake — they were the _middle_ three. Instantly, he tried to charge the ninja on his left towards the corner of the house and the entrance to the family room, but stumbled, lightheaded with blood loss.

/\

Down in the kitchen, a young woman curled into a ball on the floor flinched at the sound of her sister’s door getting kicked open, followed by a shriek of pain like she’d never heard. Her family was under attack, and she was failing them.

_Come on, Kasumi, your father is a samurai, and his father before him, going back centuries. You can do this._

Forcing herself to uncurl, she sat up, opened the box she had clutched to her stomach and grabbed the revolver and the box of bullets, and sprang to her feet to race for the stairs on silent feet.

At the top of the stairs, she paused and glanced down. She couldn’t see it in the dark, but she could feel her hands shaking. Crouching down, she silently placed the box of ammunition on the top stair before taking hold of the revolver with both hands as she tried to ignore the sounds of life and death violence reverberating down the hall over the hammering of her heart. _Remember Yamaguchi-san’s lesson — steady, deep breaths, center of mass._

Taking a deep breath and fighting to stop the shivers running through her body, the eldest Tendo stepped up as silently as possible into the dark hallway leading to the T-intersection and the hall along the Tendos’ bedrooms, only to instantly freeze at the sight of two dark man-shapes ahead of her at the T-junction.

She slowly let out the breath she’d been holding, just as slowly took a deep breath, and raised the revolver in hands suddenly without a hint of tremor.

Kasumi did remember her lesson, all of it — two shots at the man on the right, she switched to the left, three shots into the center of the figure that had whirled to face her, barely visible as a movement in the dark with her eyes dazzled by the flare of the muzzle flashes. Even as he staggered back under the impacts, she switched back to the first target only to send her last bullet into a new figure that had whipped around the corner into the hallway. At least, she thought it was a new target. Her first target might be the shapeless mass on the floor.

Ears ringing from the gunshots, she whirled to dash back to the stairs — she needed to reload, maybe she could grab the bullets and hide downstairs, they knew she was here now, make them search for her — and cried out as she collided with a massive figure behind her coming out of the stairs, bounced off and fell on her butt. She stared up at the ... male? ... figure through gunshot dazzled eyes, reaching down toward her. She was starting to shake again — as big as he was, he could break her like a twig.

But he simply pulled her to her feet, saying something she couldn’t quite make out through the ringing in her ears, before striding past her toward the bedrooms.

She stared at his retreating back for a moment, before again whirling back to the stairs. Finding the box of ammo by feel, she tapped out the empty shells and fought to load in fresh bullets with hands shaking harder than ever.

/\

Nodoka twisted where she lay on her back, trying to throw off the ninja straddling her. Her hand still gripping her katana was pinned to the floor by the wrist, the ninja’s other hand pulling a dagger from its sheath at his waist. He reversed the dagger and raised it, ready to hammer Nodoka with the pommel as another two ninjas ran past them toward the window.

Just as he started to bring the pommel down, Nabiki kicked out from her hiding place underneath the desk, catching him directly in the side and sending him rolling across the floor, tripping another ninja crossing the room.

Nodoka rolled to her feet, katana now in both hands leveled at the ninjas, gasping for breath. The two ninjas did the same, a third stepping into the dark room. _I can’t wait, they’ll mob me, Nabiki will be alone._ Thinking over the practice her sensei had insisted on for dealing with multiple opponents, she took a deep breath, bracing herself to attack the ninja closest to the window, when the house seemed to shake with the sharp thunder of rolling gunshots.

Everyone in the room froze. “Kasumi. That has to be Kasumi,” Nabiki said with a grunt, and Nodoka realized the middle Tendo was getting out from under the desk.

“Nabiki, stay down!” she hissed.

“No. I am not going to die hiding in a hole.”

Suddenly, the sounds of breathless shrieks, an explosion, shouts, and bodies slamming into walls erupted outside the room. The three ninjas exchanged glances, then the two closest to the doorway rushed for the hall while the third sidled toward Nodoka.

Nodoka braced herself for an attack, only to be caught off guard as the ninja twisted around to her right just out of her reach, trying to get past her — he was going for Nabiki! She twisted, letting go of the katana’s hilt with one hand to stretch out ... and she jerked as the doorway lit up with a thunderous red-blue explosion. The ninja took advantage of her distraction to drop underneath her swing, his wakizashi flashing up as he rose. Nodoka’s right hand and the katana it clutched spun away toward the corner of the room between the foot of the bed and the bookshelf.

Without pause Nodoka thrust her wrist stump toward the ninja’s face, spouting blood splashing across his eyes. The ninja staggered back, swinging wildly with the wakizashi in one hand as he scrubbed at his eyes with the other, but it was Nodoka’s turn to crouch beneath the swing, and her own wakizashi sliced across his abdomen. He dropped his blade, clutching at the gaping wound, and her follow-on strike swept back to sweep across his neck. As the ninja’s head landed on the bed, Nodoka dropped to one knee, suddenly lightheaded.

Nabiki dropped to her knees and caught Nodoka as she fell back, pulling her back toward the bookshelf beside her computer desk, one hand squeezed tight around the spurting stump. “You did it, you got him,” she whispered, pulling the older woman against her where they sat.

“But what about the next?” Nodoka replied through gritted teeth, fighting not to whimper.

“Saotome-san? Nabiki? Are you all right?”

At the sound of that familiar voice, the two women looked up at the figure standing in the darkness of the doorway, looking around the corpse-strewn bedroom in stunned amazement. “Ryoga!” Nabiki shouted out, a feral grin invisible in the night spreading across her face.

/oOo\

_A few minutes earlier:_

Ryoga stood in the kitchen, fighting to bring his panting under control as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark — he was in better shape than almost everyone else on Earth, but he’d put everything he had into his race through the flickering landscape to get to the Tendo home. At least, he _thought_ it was the Tendo home — it looked familiar, what he could see in the moonlight coming through the window. The room whose doorway he’d stepped through to get here had had bright sunshine coming through its windows, so he wasn’t somewhere in Europe anymore ... and from the shrieks and thumps coming through the floor, there was a serious fight going on up there.

Deciding that his breathing was quiet enough not to alert anyone he came across to his presence and his eyes adjusted enough to have a decent chance to see them first, Ryoga cautiously opened the door into the rest of the house — no one there. He moved down the hallway to the stairwell as soundlessly as he could, up the stairs cautious step by step ... and almost leaped through the roof as gunshot after gunshot echoed down the stairwell from the floor above. Guns!? The _Kuno_ ninjas brought _guns_?!

Abandoning stealth, he hurled himself up the rest of the stairs into the hall, just in time for someone racing down the hall to bounce off him. In the dark of the hallway he could barely tell that the figure on the floor was female, but the sound of her voice when she fell had been familiar ... and not many ninjas wore dresses....

“Kasumi, is that you?” he asked, reaching down to pull the woman — it _was_ Kasumi — to her feet. Somehow, she was still alive. “Get downstairs, hide somewhere, I’ll take care of everyone up here,” he said, and strode past her down the hallway toward the bedrooms. Whoever had fired the gun would be reloading, so he had to move fast.

At he came to the T-intersection with the hall that ran along the three sisters’ bedrooms, two figures whipped around the corners, blades in hand. Instantly, Ryoga slammed the ferrule of his umbrella through the chest of the one on the right, and swung the dying ninja left into his partner, bouncing him off the wall. As the ninja staggered, fighting to regain his balance, Ryoga let the umbrella sag, the corpse sliding off the end, and stepped forward to lightly kick the off-balance ninja across the against the wall beside the open door to Nabiki’s room. As the ninja bounced forward toward him, Ryoga’s umbrella thrust forward to impale a new victim.

Letting the umbrella and its corpse drop to the floor, Ryoga cupped his hands, concentrated, and the reddish-blue ball of ki of his latest attack sprang to life. He hadn’t named it yet, not seeing the need since he’d stopped shouting out his ki attacks, but now he stepped into the cross-corridor, turned to his left in the direction of Kasumi’s room, and thrusting his hands forward, his shaped charge of righteous fury given fiery life blew two ninjas down to the end of the hall to smash through the door of the tiny bathroom there.

Whipping back around, he stepped to the side and caught the wrist of the knife-gripping hand thrusting toward him, twisted and yanked to place his victim between him and his next attacker, and the ninja shrieked as his wrist snapped in Ryoga’s grip even as his partner’s knife slammed into his back. Ryoga let go of the collapsing ninja’s wrist and stepped forward to grab that partner’s chin with one hand, the back of his head with the other and _twisted_ , and the ninja’s neck snapped with a wet crack.

Looking down the hall, in the moonlight coming through the window across from Akane’s bedroom he silently snarled at the sight of another four or five ninjas stepping back. Stupid, to give him a chance to prepare, but he wasn’t going to waste it and another reddish-blue ball of ki gathered between his cupped hands.

Just as he thrust his hands forward, another two ninjas barreled out of Nabiki’s bedroom right in front of his attack. The resulting back-blast forced Ryoga back even as it blew the newcomers down the hall toward their compatriots, and he brought his staggering retreat to a halt and charged forward in spite of his dazzled vision and ringing ears — they would be worse off, and he couldn’t give them time to recover.

But as he charged he heard shattering glass, faintly saw figures throwing themselves through the window across from Akane’s door and the other at the end of the hall. He stumbled over a smoking corpse, and barely managed to keep his stumbling run from sending him after the retreating ninjas through the end-hall window.

Gripping the window frame, unmindful of the broken glass around the edges, he slumped to his knees, gasping for breath. Compared to his bouts with Ranma this one had been short, but he’d never been in one so _intense_. Not even the raids on the Kuno holdings had been this bad. _Nabiki, Ranma’s mother, I have to find them. They should be with Genma, so they should be all right, but ... there were a_ lot _of ninjas...._ He forced himself to his feet, turned back to check the bedrooms ... Akane’s, empty in the moonlight through her window ... Nabiki’s ... and his shoulders slumped with relief at the sight of the Saotome matron and middle Tendo sister huddled together on the bedroom floor against the bookshelf beside the computer desk. “Saotome-san? Nabiki? Are you all right?”

/\

Crouched in the tree by the corner of the house not far from the back gate, Ma-zhi supposed he should have felt pride, satisfaction as he watched Genma go down under a pile of ninjas, knives that would have been red in daylight flashing, but all he could feel was relief — the only major threat to his people was finished. But the price had been brutal, much worse than he’d expected, with over half of his strike force down — even as Genma had gone down, he’d managed to take several more with him. _But there’s more than enough left to deal with a noncombatant like Nabiki,_ he thought as he listened to the sounds of combat and the occasional murmured comment through his earpiece, _and even if Nodoka is better trained than we expected we should be able to leave her alive — even with her training, she’s no threat to Kuno-dono —_

He jerked, almost falling out of the tree, as the sound of gunshots hammered him through the earpiece. _Nabiki has a gun?! But why didn’t she use it before Genma — ?_

“ _It’s Kasumi! She got Thuc and Kazuki!”_ someone shouted into his throat mic, and Na-zhi felt his heart stop. _Please, not_ Kasumi _,_ he thought, mind racing. Really, with Genma down they didn’t actually need to finish off Nabiki, not now. With Akane captured and Ukyo, Konatsu and the Amazons dead, she was completely uncovered. Either she’d run, or they could come back and finish the job whenever —

The sound of violence broke out over his comlink again — _extreme_ violence. _That_ can’t _be Kasumi, or even Nodoka, not one half-trained woman with a katana, but who else is there ... ?_ Then at the far end of the of the house from his tree, the night lit up with a frighteningly familiar reddish-blue flash as the second floor wall around the corner was blown out — the Lost Boy had joined the party.

_No more. We’ve done the minimum needed, and the cost has been too high and is getting higher._ “Strike force, Isei Fujio One. Break contact, regroup at rally point three. Interception teams, return to base.” He listened to relieved acknowledgements and the sound of breaking glass of what he assumed were windows used for escape as he twisted on his perch and leaped for the top of the Tendo compound wall.

A few minutes later on a rooftop less than a block away, Ma-zhi fought to hide his shock at the less than double handful of ninjas that were all that were left of the strike team. He’d known it was bad from what he’d listened to on his comlink, but this ... ! “Were there any wounded, badly enough that they weren’t able to break away?” he asked, voice toneless with his effort to keep it even.

“Noburo, perhaps,” Shinsaku, the highest-ranking member of the strike force left, replied. “Nodoka got him across the eyes. I told him to find a place out of the way to wait until it was over. Other than him ... no — even Nodoka was _very_ lethal.”

Ma-zhi’s shoulders slumped for a moment, before he took a deep breath and straightened. “All right, with Genma’s death we’ve accomplished the minimum necessary, let’s —”

And a girl covered in white came shrieking out of the night, smashing aside the first ninjas at the edge of the roof with red-glowing broken wooden two-by-fours — Xian Pu!

“Ghost!” someone shouted just before a wildly swinging piece of wood split her head open, the ninja next to her spattered with bits and pieces of white, gray and red. The surviving ninja had had enough. In an instant, they were scattering in into the night even as Na-zhi, stumbling as a fleeing team member knocked him to the side, tried to shout that Xian Pu was no ghost, not with the blood running down the side of her head— and the last thing he ever saw was the red glow of a blood- and brains-stained square length of wood swinging straight at his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genma, here, found himself in almost the worst possible situation for his School — pinned to one spot by the need to protect bystanders (the worst would be pinned down by the need to protect bystanders, out in the open). To be expected for a school designed by a thief, I think. Ryoga, on the other hand, was made for this kind of close quarters in your face beatdown.
> 
> And yes, I know Shampoo doesn't normally light up her weapons like that, but considering what she does with them she must be reinforcing them with ki — and after what just happened, she's really pushing her normal limits.
> 
> The title comes from a term for when a rocket's thrust cuts off, leaving it to coast the rest of the way on momentum.


	31. Be Careful What You Wish For ...

_A few minutes earlier:_

In a plain, wood-paneled basement room of the Kuno mansion, the Master of Servants kept his stoic mask firmly in place, refusing to show his ... discomfort ... as he looked down at the red-haired girl lying unconscious on the comfortably warmed padded table before him, her naked beauty on display for all in the room to see except for a face mask supplying the gas that was keeping her unconscious and her access to her ki reserves disrupted. Most especially, he refused to reveal his feelings to the nondescript man standing next to him. Pyo had no problem with how Ranma had been captured — tiny holes in windows in the Kuno-dono suite’s dining room and library, and copious amounts of odorless slow-acting sleeping gas. He was a ninja, after all. No, his discomfort was the result of how the man known as the Mentalist was also examining the nude girl.

Actually, ‘examining’ was much too mild a word — his eyes were fixed on Ranma as if he were committing the view to memory. “I must admit, Kuno-dono has excellent taste,” the Mentalist commented. “I can see why he’s so determined to keep her.”

“ ‘Him’, actually, at least in his own mind — it’s what she has been for most of her life,” Pyo replied. “You didn’t read the report we sent you?”

“Yes, I did,” the Mentalist replied with a shrug. “She won’t be the first person I’ve dealt with that was confused about gender. What I found more interesting was the auction center’s report on Ranma’s Adjustment, especially on how weak it was. Do you know if it’s failed, yet? Or rather, if _they’ve_ failed yet?”

“I do not know,” Pyo replied. “If I was to venture a guess, based on her behavior, I would say the Adjustment limiting the use of violence has failed while the one modifying her sexual preferences has not. But it is only a guess.”

“I guess I’ll just have to find out for myself. I hope the report on Ranma’s Adjustment is accurate, it’s been too long since I’ve had a real challenge.” The Mentalist’s eyes had remained fixed on the unconscious slave, and now his face was split by a broad predator’s grin, his eyes shining with eagerness. “Is there any really bad news I can give her, to shake her up if it’s needed?”

Pyo frowned. “Is that a good idea?” he asked. “I would think that such news would be more likely to strengthen Ranma’s resistance, not weaken it.”

The Mentalist shrugged. “You are probably correct,” he replied, “but maybe not. It will depend on what I find when I go in.”

Pyo gazed at the freelancer for a long moment, debating how much to tell him. _He is the worst kind of ronin, willing to take on any task if his price is met,_ the Master of Servants thought, considering once again that one of the major problems with doing whatever it took to protect his lord was the kind of people it occasionally required him to associate with. Still, the Mentalist had made it a major point to protect any secrets he might learn about his employers while carrying out whatever tasks they were paying him for — a necessity for a powerful rogue telepathic Wild Talent that wanted to be employed, rather than hunted down as a threat to the state (and the rich and powerful lords and daimyo).

The quiet of the room was interrupted by a brief burst of music, and Pyo stiffened at the tune — the signal for an emergency call. Pulling his phone from its belt sheath, he checked the caller to find the number for the Cat Café watch post. He glanced up at the Mentalist, found the other man’s inevitable curiosity well-hidden, and mentally shrugged as he hit the ‘accept’ key and looked back down at his phone’s tiny screen.

The screen lit up with Sik Won’s image, and without waiting for his superior to speak first the ninja all but shouted, “Sensei, Shampoo is leaving on a delivery right now!”

Pyo felt himself blanch. “Go!” he ordered instantly. Sik Won glanced back over his shoulder, then turned back as the screen shook and a massive explosion momentarily washed out all other sound through the phone. When quiet returned, Pyo continued, “Shut down the outpost, and return to the mansion in the morning when there is no possibility of being linked to the Cat Café’s destruction. We will empty out the outpost later, when things have settled.”

Without waiting for his subordinate to acknowledge his order, he disconnected and returned the phone to its sheath as he refocused on the Mentalist. “For bad news, you can tell her that Ukyo, Konatsu, and the Amazons are dead, the Tendo dojo under assault by overwhelming numbers without hope of rescue. Can you lie while in someone’s mind?”

“Certainly.”

“Then you can say that Akane has been captured and already Adjusted to believe that Kuno-dono is her beloved master and the father of her child, shared by her fellow full-use slave Ranko — I would _strongly_ suggest that you not say that her child has been aborted or lost to a miscarriage.”

As the Mentalist nodded at the suggestion, Pyo continued, “And now, I will leave you to your task. As you heard, things are moving and I am needed elsewhere.” He exchanged bows and turned toward the exit with carefully concealed relief as the Mentalist waved for his servants standing along the wall to join him.

/oOo\

Okana Taisho stiffened where he lay on his cot, his reading of a trashy blood-sex-and-honor adventure novel set during the conquest of China disturbed by thunder — the artificial kind, rather than Susanoo’s. He looked toward the open door to the tiny room he’d made his own since his team of ronin had arrived at the warehouse they’d made their temporary Neriman headquarters. A few minutes later, Dan Yuji appeared in the doorway. “Hey boss, something’s up. Washichi reports that the explosion just now was about where the Cat Café’s located, and that’ll tell you how big it was considering how far away the café is — or was. No idea what, yet, but something’s up.”

Okana swung to sit up on the cot, putting his reader to the side. “Right. I don’t know if the Kunos were stupid enough to blow up an occupied restaurant or if someone else is trying to kick off a public backlash, but with how tense things have been this could do it. Get everyone up and armed, and alert the scouts that we may be on the move.”

“Already done,” Dan replied, flashing a grin at his chosen Captain. “You just need to get ready yourself.”

Okana glared at his subordinate, the strength of his opprobrium undermined by his twitching lips. “Then let’s go.”

/oOo\

Hiroshi turned away from his bedroom window, picked up the chair in front if his computer that he’d knocked over when the explosion shook his family’s house, and sat down. _Okay, let’s see what’s on the raw news —_ He froze at the sight of footage of the hole that had been the Cat Café, panning to the side to show the shattered buildings around it. There was surprisingly little fire — building codes (for at least business districts if not personal homes) long since passed in an attempt to reduce district-wide conflagrations seemed to have mostly done their job — and he could already hear the first sirens.

Backing up the footage he’d just watched, Hiroshi froze the image and stared at the hole. _It’s just too_ big _! There’s no way that was an accident. And if it_ wasn’t _an accident ..._

He hastily brought up his computer’s phone function, highlighted the number for the Tendo dojo, hit the button to make the call ... and the call attempt was broken off by an incoming emergency call — Nabiki’s number. Hands suddenly shaking, he plugged in his headphones, put them on, and accepted the call. He straightened as he listened to the pre-recorded message:

“ _Remember what the Amalekites did to you along the way when you came out of Egypt. When you were weary and worn out, they met you on your journey and attacked all who were lagging behind; they had no fear of God. When the Lord your God gives you rest from all the enemies around you in the land he is giving you to possess as an inheritance, you shall blot out the name of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget!”_

The day had finally come.

Even as he had been listening to the call to arms Hiroshi had been highlighting another phone number, and as soon as it ended he hit the contact button, waited ... until a minute later his screen lit up with Sayuri’s face, her hands behind her head gathering up her dark brown hair. Before she got a chance to speak, Hiroshi asked, “You got the message?”

“Yes I did,” she said, nodding as she wrapped the elastic around the base of her usual high ponytail.

“Good. Don’t join everyone else at the rally point. Instead, get with Yuka — I want you two to check on the dojo, they may need help there.”

Sayuri blanched. “ _Of course_ Kuno would go after Akane at the same time he takes out the Amazons,” she almost whispered, then nodded firmly. “Yuka and I will give what help we can, and give you a call to let you know what’s happened.”

“Great, thanks,” Hiroshi acknowledged, and disconnected. For a moment, he stared at the screen and its images of where the Cat Café had stood as he wondered if either of the girls would figure out that he was intentionally getting them out of harm’s way. _Though the way Kuno took out the Amazons was a lot more lethal than Nabiki had expected ... perhaps I ought to call them back?_ Finally, he shook his head as he rose and grabbed his own staff — by the time the girls could get to the dojo, whatever was happening there would be long over. They would be safe enough — and still around to support Akane once everything settled down.

Meanwhile, he had his own assigned task and target for the night, and his own team to lead — the _entire_ team, not just the members that had helped him bust up the auction center viewscreens.

/oOo\

This time when the phone rang, Captain Kasai Morimasa, head of the law enforcement for the Nerima Lording, didn’t wait for his wife to answer it — not after the explosion that had just rattled his windows a few minutes earlier. Nor was he surprised when, as on the night he’d learned of the upcoming auction of ‘Tendo Ranko’, his screen lit up with the face of Itou Goro. “I assume you heard that explosion?” Goro asked without preamble.

“Yes, it rattled the windows,” Morimasa replied.

“Well, it was the Cat Café.”

“The Cat —” Morimasa cut off his shout and turned to stare out the window. If the explosion had shaken his small house _this_ far away ... And then his eyes flashed to the digital wall clock and his heart froze — the restaurant would have been in the middle of its evening rush.

“How’s business there been, lately?” he asked in a voice held steady by sheer willpower.

“It’s been falling off, but for tonight I don’t know, the man that would have dropped in tonight hasn’t reported in. I think he was inside when it blew up. And we aren’t going to know how many are dead for days, and partly from missing person reports — the building just isn’t there, anymore. A hole in the ground quickly turning into a new swimming pool is, though.”

Despite the humor in his words Goro’s voice was dead serious, and Morimasa actually felt a totally inappropriate bubble of laughter forcing its way out. “A silver lining even in this?” he asked.

Goro’s chuckling was distinctly lacking his usual undertone of humor even as his eyes shifted to the side, reading a screen alongside his main monitor, then even that chuckling cut off abruptly. “Oh, shit!” he breathed, then looked back at his boss. “Sorry, sir, no silver lining this time. There are reports coming in from every beat in the lording, men and some women are leaving their homes. We don’t know where they are all headed yet, but most of them _aren’t_ headed for where the Cat Café used to be. And every one of them is carrying one of those staves that have become so popular since the auction — certainly a lot more than Saotome-san was teaching.”

“Oh, shit!” Morimasa echoed. “All right, send out an all-call, all off-duty policemen are to drop whatever they are doing and report to the station house immediately, along with ... half of those on patrol. Current patrolmen not reporting back are to follow the people and see where they are headed and how many show up — make sure they know that’s _all_ they are to do, no heroics. When we know gathering points, probable targets, and numbers, we’ll decide how to respond with however many of us make it to the station.”

“Got it,” Goro acknowledged, and repeated back his orders. Morimasa nodded his approval and broke the connection, then whirled for the pistol and jacket hanging on the wall.

“Morimasa?”

He turned at the sound of his wife’s voice and forced a smile. “Everything will be fine,” he lied easily. “I won’t be on the front lines.” Finishing buckling on his shoulder holster, he pulled on his jacket then stepped over and gave her a light kiss. “I’ll call as soon as I reach the station,” he promised. “Keep the door locked and the curtains closed.” He stepped out of the house, locked the door behind him, and started jogging toward the station house while keeping a wary eye at the people he saw on the street around him ... all headed in the same direction, _away_ from his destination, thankfully — for the moment.

/oOo\

As his servants joined him around the table on which lay his latest ‘subject’, the man known only as the Mentalist stepped back and watched his employer stride from the room, a sardonic smile on his face. The Master of Servants had worked hard to hide his contempt for his hireling, but the Mentalist had experienced that same contempt from employer after employer over the years since he had abandoned his name and Family in the pursuit of wealth. _Hypocrite,_ he thought as the door slid closed behind Pyo, _as if it’s better to kill someone in the service of a lunatic like Kuno instead of for money, or instead of playing with someone’s memories and personality._ After a moment, he shrugged and turned his attention back to the naked red-haired girl. He had a hefty payment to earn, possibly a serious challenge for a change, and it wasn’t as if Pyo’s opinion mattered to him, anyway.

As the Mentalist watched, one of the servants removed the mask from its placing covering Ranma’s nose and mouth and closed the valve to the gas canister, while the rest started gently stroking the teenage girl’s limp body, her arms and legs, hands, feet, breasts and abdomen. One standing at the head of the table ran soft fingers along her cheeks and ears while another pulled her legs apart to give access to what lay between, stroking her inner thighs and the folds of her cleft. The humiliation that was a primary purpose for a similar practice during the Adjustment procedure didn’t apply — it is difficult to humiliate someone that is unconscious. But the Mentalist had learned over the years that the stimulation combined with his own cocktail of drugs accomplished much the same task of distracting and confusing his victims as they recovered consciousness, and so weakened their resistance.

The minutes trickled by, until the small body began to shift slightly, a faint hint of arousal scenting the air. The girl stroking Ranma’s folds slipped a finger up into her sheath, her thumb flicking across the now-protruding clit, and was rewarded by a twitch and a low, soft moan from the awakening girl.

The Mentalist nodded to the servant holding the mask and motioned aside the one stroking Ranma’s face. As the one handling the gas placed the mask back over Ranma’s nose and mouth and opened the canister valve a quarter of the way, the Mentalist replaced the other at Ranma’s head and placed his fingers on each temple.

/\

Ranma floated in darkness, surrounded by a lattice made up of glowing stars and the ribbons of light that connected them. He glanced around, wondering where he was — wait, ‘he’? He glanced down ... yup, naked as the day he was born, and definitely his male form. Ranma felt something inside him relax after weeks of tension — whatever was happening, he was himself again. But as great as that was, it didn’t explain how his Jusenkyo curse had been unlocked, or how he had gotten wherever he was — this completely unknown but hauntingly familiar void.

Closing his eyes, Ranma thought back. It had been a day like any other in her gilded cage — sparring with Kodachi, trying to train Usagi in the basics, her own training regimen, ignoring Usagi’s protests as she helped her erstwhile body slave with the light cleaning that was all Kuno’s living quarters needed — _Thinkin’ it was funny ta put Usagi on yer bed after she fell asleep over her homework, that it’s as close as she’s gonna get ta sharin’ a bed with Kuno like she wants. And then ... going ta the dojo ta do some more katas, gettin’ tired and sitting down for a rest ... yeah, more drugs. But who, an’ why? Not Kodachi, she doesn’t have any reason to, anymore. Same fer Kuno, he thinks he’s got what he wants — half at least, an’ no way druggin’ me will get him the other half._

Unable to come up with any other possible enemies, challengers, rivals, or fiancées that could reach her through the Kuno defenses and spirit her away, Ranma shrugged and put the problem aside for later. He opened his eyes, he again and looked out across the void with its balls and strings of light — just as _everything_ seemed to reverberate from a massive concussion behind him. “What the hell!?” Ranma shouted, trying to whip around to look behind him only to set himself spinning in place. Managing to somehow bring himself to a stop even as a second thunderous strike resounded, he tried again with much less effort this time, and was rewarded by _slowly_ turning in place to find himself staring at a stone wall seeming to stretch into infinity in all direction — a wall that was as eerily familiar as the latticework of light now behind him. And a wall that had a spiderweb of cracks spread across its surface.

Another colossal blow shivered echoing through the void, and the cracks leaped across the vast stone wall. And at the sight, a veil he hadn’t even been aware of fell away, and Ranma suddenly remembered: _It’s beautiful — like a three-dimensional spider web in the morning dew. But what is it? Where am I?... The Adjustment, this must be it! The ... the web, it must be my mind! And the wall ... It must be my mind’s defense against intrusion, and whoever’s trying to get through ... This is the Adjustment ... if they can’t set it up, if they fail, they won’t offer you for sale, the deal’s off, and everything falls back on the Tendos._

A third blow, and Ranma shook off the flood of memory as he watched flecks of stone explode away from the center of the impact. Obviously, whoever was trying to break in this time was considerably stronger than the first Adjustor. _Only one way ta find out what’s goin’ on, and whoever’s knockin’ is gonna get in, anyway,_ he thought. As he had the first time, he sought out his memories of Akane and her sisters, good times and bad, their love and pain, and felt something inside him relax — and this time the wall shivered and went translucent to show a naked, totally nondescript man floating on the other side.

The two stared at each other for a long moment, the stranger’s eyes wide with shock, and then Ranma grinned. “Well, are ya comin’ in, or are ya gonna just float there all day?”

/\

The Mentalist gazed at the wall that barred his way into Ranma’s mind, grinning — an actual stone wall, perfect! The fact that there was any wall at all was promising, since it meant an untrained mind. That it wasn’t wood was even more promising, since it meant the mind was powerful as well. And that it wasn’t steel — or worse, crystalline — well, by the time people were trained to _that_ level they stopped visualizing their defenses. This was going to be fun....

Bracing himself where he floated, he smashed his fist against the wall, surged forward — and slammed into the still-solid barrier and bounced back, tumbling. _What the ... !_ Shaking his head, the Mentalist stared at the cracked but still-solid wall (as the ringing in his ears could attest). _Okay, this is going to be more of a challenge than I thought._ Floating up to the wall, he again slammed his fist into the center of the web of cracks from his first blow, and felt the first hints of worry as more cracks raced outward ... but the wall held. This was easily the strongest untrained mind he’d ever encountered, and he shivered when he wondered what this mind would have been like with some experience in the Mental Arts. _I don’t care how strong he is, he_ doesn’t _have that experience — what’s he going to do to me once I get through?_

So, time to get _really_ serious. He floated back from the wall, brought himself vertical, stretched out straight like a targeted missile, his fists pointed at the center of the web of cracks, and _launched_ himself forward. An instant later he was tumbling away, his head again ringing and the most intense pain he’d ever felt running the length of his arms from his hands to his shoulders and down his back. This was _not_ fun at all. But the pain was slowly ebbing, and he forced himself to ignore it as he floated back, and ... yes! He ran a hand along the wall where a massive crater was centered in the middle of the radiating cracks. It was closing, of course, but only slowly. One more solid blow should do it.

The Mentalist started to back up — he wasn’t looking forward to the pain, but it would only be one more run — when suddenly the wall seemed to shiver and go translucent, and he found himself staring at a naked teenage boy, floating in front of a black sea of stars connected by ribbons of light, like nothing he’d ever seen. He stared in shock at the boy ... Ranma, he realized, remembering pictures from the file he’d read ... and then the boy grinned and asked, “Well, are ya comin’ in, or are ya gonna just float there all day?”

The Mentalist shook off the shock and accepted the invitation, diving through the translucent wall — he didn’t _think_ Ranma would be able to trap him halfway through, but at this point he wasn’t taking chances. Spinning into an upright position a few yards from the martial artist, he carefully looked him over. While he had never before encountered someone that created an avatar inside his own mind, the boy before him could be nothing else — which meant that he would be representative of Ranma’s self image and mental state, rather than simply a copy of his physical body. But while the Mentalist thought he could see a hint of ... fuzziness? ... around the ‘edges’, so to speak, the only clear evidence of Ranma’s trauma of the last few weeks was the red tingeing and streaks in his hair. _Well, I wanted a challenge,_ he thought wryly, glancing around at the bizarre view as he tried to estimate the power of a mind capable of forming what had to be a visual manifestation of a mindscape, much less an avatar to guard it. Visualizing the defenses around one’s inner self was one thing, this was ... something else.

“So ya gonna just look around all day, or are ya gonna try Adjustin’ me again?” At Ranma’s question, the Mentalist turned back to find the boy eying him curiously. “That’s what you’re here for, right? Ta fix the broken Adjustments?”

“Right, the Adjustments,” the Mentalist responded. “I’ll get right —” And in mid-sentence, without a hint of warning, he struck.


	32. Pieces On and Off the Board

A teenage girl landed on the top of the wall around the Tendo dojo, so covered in dusted brick and concrete and splashed with blood and gore that even in daylight it would have been difficult to recognize the purple shade of her hair. She paused, fighting to keep from passing out as the pain in her head exploded at the impact. In spite of the way Xian Pu knew she was skylining herself, she waited until the pounding ebbed once more to a level that allowed her to be more than peripherally aware of the nighttime world around her, until at last she decided that she had recovered enough to go on and dropped down inside the compound.

Landing lightly in a crouch, she looked around, eyes widening at the carnage visible in the moonlight, at least half a dozen bodies lying on the grass — including one that was heartbreakingly familiar. She ignored the body for a moment to look around again ... nothing. The night was quiet, without a hint of the pressure of being the target of hostile focus. Whatever had happened here, it was over.

With that realization she felt herself begin to relax and fought to stay on her feet as she approached the corpse at the center of the massacre — yes, as she’d feared, it was Genma. She stared down at the body for a long moment, eyes picking out the no longer bleeding stabs and slashes that had killed him, thoughts of the man he’d been and the man he’d become clashing within her. He had been an irritating, laughable excuse for a human being, much worse than even would normally be expected of a man, but the last few weeks he had been ... impressive.

_Think about it later, you have more important things to worry about._ Putting aside the thought of Genma as she had done earlier with her grief over her great-grandmother and her childhood friend/annoying pursuer, she glanced around. Genma was the only corpse of the dojo residents she could see and she couldn’t see him choosing to leave them defenseless, so ...

She looked up at the open second story window to the not-so-Mercenary Girl’s bedroom that Genma must have fallen from, to see it now lit by a soft flickering light. So someone, at least, survived. Taking a deep breath, she braced herself, _leaped_ , and pain again exploded behind her eyes as her knee thudded down on the windowsill. Forcing herself to focus as she wiped at watering eyes with one dust- and blood-encrusted hand while the other gripped the window frame, she looked around. In the flickering light from a candle on top of the bookshelf she could see the bedroom was liberally splashed with spatters and streaks of blood and gore and littered with bodies ... and a pale, shaking Nodoka was sitting in the midst of the carnage, braced upright by a Nabiki still gripping tight the stump where the Saotome matriarch’s hand used to be while Kasumi hastily tied off a strip of cloth torn from her apron and wrapped around Nodoka’s forearm as a tourniquet. The three froze, staring at the apparition that had appeared in the window, then even as Xian Pu saw the Lost Boy step toward her from where he’d been guarding the doorway, the last of her strength drained away and she collapsed forward onto the blood-soaked bed strewn with bodies and pieces of bodies.

/\

The dojo’s defenders stared for a long moment at the almost unrecognizable Amazon lying curled up on the bed and shaking as she dry heaved. Finally, Nabiki shook off the surprise. “Kasumi, check on her. Ryoga, make sure Shampoo doesn’t do anything she’ll regret later.”

Kasumi managed a jerky nod and rose to step over to the bed, Ryoga hastily joining her while Nabiki gently pulled Nodoka back to lean her against the computer table’s leg. Making sure the shaky older woman wouldn’t fall over, she scrabbled for her school bag. They had to get Nodoka to a hospital and from what little she’d seen Xian Pu didn’t look to be in much better shape, but she needed ... yes! Hastily dumping out the old textbooks it still held, she looked around. _Nodoka’s hand has to be around here somewhere. Maybe it can be reattached ... ah, there!_ She knelt between the bed she was definitely not going to be sleeping in ever again and picked up the Saotome blade, then used it to gingerly sweep the hand that had been lying beside it into the empty backpack. _Looks like I won’t be using the bookbag again, either._

Looking over her shoulder at Nodoka, Nabiki scuttled back over to catch her before the matriarch’s sideways tilt could dump her onto the blood-covered floor. “Kasumi, how’s Shampoo?”

“Badly bruised, scratches and scrapes, concussed, I don’t know how badly, but bad,” her older sister answered. “But no deep cuts or broken bones.”

“Better than I expected,” Nabiki mused. “But then, I expected her to be dead, she must not have been inside the Cat Café when it blew up. Can she walk?”

“N-No, not a ch-ch-chance.”

Nabiki looked up sharply at the stutter in Kasumi’s voice. Ryoga was a stolid presence standing guard as asked, but Kasumi had slumped back onto the bed, uncaring of the blood and gore, her eyes haunted in the flickering candlelight. Nabiki whispered, “Kasumi?”

“Nabiki, wh-what about Ak-k-kane and Ukyo?”

Nabiki sighed. “Kuno’s people had to have grabbed them before they attacked us, they’re probably at the mansion right now. We’ll have to leave them to Ranma and the mob.”

“Mob?” Ryoga asked without looking up from the Amazon teenager.

“Yes, the mob that must be marching on the mansion right now,” Nabiki told him blandly, glancing up at him as she kept an unhappy frown off her face. There was no way to avoid it, they were going to need his help.

Looking back at her now-shivering sister, voice softening, she continued, “Kasumi, we need to get Shampoo and Nodoka to the hospital, and after the attack I am _not_ calling for an ambulance. Ryoga can’t carry both of them, I need your help with Nodoka.”

Kasumi took a deep breath and nodded, rising to her feet. “You’re right.” She stepped over and bent to take one of Nodoka’s arms while Nabiki slung her book bag with its severed hand over her shoulder and gripped Nodoka’s other arm. The two sisters helped the barely-aware woman to her feet.

As Ryoga gently scooped up the curled-up Shampoo in his arms, Nabiki grabbed the revolver from where Kasumi had placed it on her desk when the older girl had rushed over to help with the Saotome matriarch and slipped it in her pocket, just in case. _I’m going to have to get me one of these, and some training...._ “Let’s go.”

/\

Almost a quarter-hour later, Nabiki sighed with relief as she and Kasumi maneuvered their shocky burden through the front gate of the dojo. At least they were finally on level ground and done with doorways until they got to the hospital. Maybe someone with a car would see them and stop to help? _I can’t believe I didn’t see something like this coming. But Kuno ... he’s_ never _been this brutal, what_ happened _to him?_

“Nabiki! Kasumi!” Nabiki looked up to see Akane’s two best friends hurrying toward them. The two brunettes slammed to a stop, blanching when they got close enough to see Nodoka’s handless arm over Kasumi’s shoulder and recognize the filthy, bloody bundle in Ryoga’s arms. “What happened!?” Sayuri gasped.

“We were attacked, what do you think?” Nabiki snarled, then choked back the rest of the scathing reply. _They love Akane, they must be here to help. Do_ not _rip their heads off, they can’t help it that they’re idiots._ Taking a deep breath, she forced her voice into what she hoped was at least a neutral tone. “Actually, I’m glad you’re here, we need your help. Ryoga, let them take Shampoo off your hands, they can bring her along the same way Kasumi and I have Nodoka.”

“Uhm ...” Yuka visibly gathered her courage, and forced herself to ask, “Where’s everyone else?”

Nabiki felt her anger fade away at the fear in the younger brunette’s voice. Of course, they didn’t know. “Konatsu’s off on a job,” she replied. “Akane and Ukyo were making a run for Juuban and never came back, I’m assuming they’ve been captured and are at the Kuno mansion. Uncle Genma ... Genma is dead. Now, come on, we need to get Shampoo and Nodoka to the hospital.”

The girls nodded and stepped forward as Ryoga carefully lowered Shampoo to her feet, holding her up as Yuka and Sayuri each pulled one of the Amazon’s arms over their shoulders and wrapped arms around her waist. As soon as Shampoo was safely supported, Ryoga turned away and started to stride down the street.

“Ryoga, stop!” The (formerly) Lost Boy froze at Nabiki’s shout and turned around to look back. The middle Tendo asked, “Where are you headed?”

“The Kuno mansion, where else?” Ryoga answered, puzzled that she’d ask what should be perfectly obvious.

“No, you aren’t.” Ryoga stiffened at the harsh order, his face twisting with anger, and Nabiki hastily continued, “If Akane and Ukyo are there they’ve been there for hours, so if the worst is going to happen it’s already over. Plus Ranma’s there, and a lot more any time now — we can probably get by without you. But afterwards, when we’re trying to sell this as an uprising of the faceless masses of Nerima, we _can’t_ have the scourge that’s been attacking Kuno holdings for weeks known to be involved — and considering the way you light things up and the mess you make of the landscape, there’s no way to avoid that. Ryoga, you saved our lives tonight, we owe you — Akane and Ranma owe you. But right now, the best thing you can do for us _and_ them is to get lost again.”

Ryoga stared at Nabiki for a long moment, then nodded curtly and turned to stride away.

The girls watched him go until he turned a corner at a street intersection and was gone. As he disappeared from sight, Sayuri hesitantly asked, “Nabiki, how are you going to convince anyone that this was just a mass uprising? Your message is on phones and computers all over Nerima.”

Nabiki chuckled. “Haven’t looked at your phone since you got my call, have you? When you do, my message won’t be there — the messages were self-erasing, along with cleaning up their back trail, standard shadow walker trick. Now come on, we’ve got eight blocks to the hospital and some badly injured people that need to get there as quickly as we can manage.”

As the girls started to help their armfuls down the sidewalk, Nabiki glanced in the direction of the Kuno mansion, and her sister and Ranma — she’d done what she could, whatever happened it was out of her hands. _Kami-sama, Kannon, any other kami that might be paying attention be with you._

/oOo\

Shinohara Asuma once again sat in his tent, this time staring at the upright screen of his notebook-sized tablet as the loop of the rising flame-lit cloud of the explosion that had obliterated the Cat Café reached its end and reset to the beginning — of the loop, not the explosion, not quite. The person that had caught the explosion on camera from several blocks away hadn’t been facing the café when it blew, but had reacted with lightning speed. Whoever that unnamed individual had been, he was going to be rolling in all the kaneitsuho he pulled in — the image had gone viral — and Asuma expected that news crews from all over Japan would be headed for the Nerima Lording. _And they are likely to have a_ very _different story than they expect,_ he thought grimly, remembering his subordinates’ report of the tension in the lording.

“Everyone’s ready,” one of those subordinates said from his tent entrance, and he looked up at the redheaded gamin figure of Noa. “You think Setsuna is really going to call us in?”

“If ever there was a burning house ready to be looted, this is it,” Asuma replied with a slight shrug. “If she has any plan at all, she has to kick it off soon or there isn’t going to be a lording left to maneuver in.”

Noa nodded, then stiffened and looked back over her shoulder at the sound of a distant car engine. Asuma quickly rose and strode over to join her at the tent entrance, and the two watched as a small car came to a stop beside the sentry at the gate opening into their encampment’s field. A moment later, the sentry opened the gate and even as the car pulled through Asuma’s communicator came to life. _“Sir, Meioh-san is coming to speak with you.”_ Asuma’s eyebrows rose — the tiny, cheap two-seater was a far cry from the limousine she’d been chauffeured about in the last time she’d visited — but when the car pulled to a stop in front of his tent it was indeed the emerald-haired businesswoman in the driver’s seat. Noa hurried forward to open the door and help their temporary employer unfold herself out from behind the steering wheel.

Asuma bowed respectfully when Setsuna finally stood before him. “A far cry from your last visit,” he said. “I imagine your bodyguards were less than happy to see you go off in that.”

Setsuna glanced back over her shoulder at the car and chuckled. “Yes, well, driving around Nerima in a big, expensive rich lady’s toy isn’t a good idea, right now — they may not be able to get through the armor, but there’s nothing to stop them from turning it over and setting it on fire. And can you imagine one of my guards in that dinky little thing? He’d be so scrunched up that he’d be completely helpless if someone _did_ try to kill me.”

Asuma laughed briefly at the image her words brought to mind as he waved her toward his tent entrance, but instantly sobered when she shook her head, her face suddenly grim.

Setsuna glanced around the camp, nodding approvingly when she saw all the one-man tanks on their trucks. “You are aware of what just happened in Nerima?” she asked.

Asuma simply nodded, his face instantly blank.

Setsuna chuckled humorlessly at the sight. “Apparently, I don’t need to tell you what’s going to happen next. Relax, I’m not going to ask you to intervene in the inevitable rioting. However,” she added before he had a chance to relax, “a source of mine tells me that there’s more to this than a simple uprising of outraged commoners — specifically, a large strike team of street samurai. Best guess, their employer foresaw just what’s happening now and got them in place to take advantage of it. I know that this is outside your official jurisdiction, but would you be willing to perform your usual duties even as freelancers? I would cover all costs, of course — including any equipment expenditure and damage, medical costs, and death benefits if necessary.”

“I thought you hated the Kunos,” Asuma said neutrally.

Setsuna shrugged. “I hated the _previous_ Lord Kuno. This one isn’t evil, just insane in a way that makes him dangerous to a very limited number of people. Either way, it’s beside the point — even with the way the Shadow War has been moving more and more into the light, there hasn’t been a successful armed assault by one Clan on another Clan’s home estate since before Tokugawa ended the Warring States period. Do you believe the Empire is better off if that changes, even if it’s Families feuding?”

Asuma and Noa paled at the thought, and Asuma nodded, his face hardening. “Right. Noa, tell everyone we’re headed for Nerima, I’ll be more specific when I know more. Setsuna, you’re with me, you can fill me in as we go. And Noa,” he continued as his subordinate was turning away and reaching for her com unit, “I know you love our little tanks, but you’re probably going to be going with the power gliders this time.” Noa grimaced but nodded her acknowledgment before hurrying away, and Asuma turned back to Setsuna. “Come, my Lady, your ride awaits.”

/oOo\

Captain Kasai stepped through the just-opened doors of Nerima Law Enforcement headquarters, nodding to the patrolmen guarding the doors. They hastily closed and locked the doors again, sliding the steel shutters across them, and he strode away for his office, his eyes glancing around the room at the various (not enough) patrolmen and officers checking the steel shutters with firing slits over windows, stripping down and cleaning various personal firearms (he resolved to order an apparently badly needed weapons check when the current mess was over), and a few — a very few — adjusting the fit of body armor they’d just put on. Morimasa hid a wince at just how few of the last there were, not that he was surprised. Riot suppression had always been a job assigned to Kuno Security after all, not Nerima Law Enforcement. Except for a single SWAT team, the expensive body armor and much of the weaponry his subordinates owned were privately purchased, often accompanied by good-natured ribbing from their friends about turning American. (Morimasa rather doubted there would be much of that in the future.) Though he hadn’t actually said as much to anyone, he was well aware that, in spite of his and Goro’s best efforts, it had been Captain Goto and his people that had managed to keep ‘Ranko’s’ auction from turning into a full-fledged riot instead of a little breakage around the edges, not Nerima Law Enforcement. _Of course, then we were worried about a riot between the retainers of the various Families_ inside _the auction grounds, rather than the spectators on the outside,_ he thought wryly. _And of course, Kuno-dono couldn’t believe that his ‘loyal people’ could possibly see anything wrong with what he did. I wonder if he’s changed his mind, yet? Not that it would do any good if he has, the way Kuno Security has been assigned elsewhere trying to stop Hibiki and the copycats._

Reaching the office he shared with his chief subordinate, Morimasa stepped in, closed the door, and promptly collapsed into one of the chairs in front of his desk and started to shake.

Itou Goro glanced up from his own desk off to the side, and grinned tightly. “So, Captain, did you have a pleasant walk?”

“Oh, absolutely, nothing like the constant threat of imminent death from literally everyone else on the street around you to spice up an otherwise boring stroll through nighttime Nerima,” Morimasa said dryly, then smiled as Goro chuckled. “So, what have you got for me?”

“Well, for a spontaneous uprising, it’s remarkably well organized,” Goro replied, sobering. “Some are headed for the Cat Café, and people already there are digging through the rubble of the buildings around it. But it looks like most are gathering around four targets: the Kuno Family estate, of course, along with the auction center and the Lording offices. Fortunately, there isn’t anyone but cleaning crews and a few security guards at the last two. _Un_ fortunately, the same can’t be said for the estate, and we aren’t going to be able to do _fuck_ -all about it because the fourth target is _us_.”

“ _What!?”_ Morimasa was up out of his seat and looming over Goro, staring at his subordinate’s monitor. Sure enough, the map of Nerima showed red dots of numerous presumed hostiles gathering in the field across from the slave center where there’d almost been the riot weeks earlier, and around the other three targets Goro had mentioned. And Goro had been right, it was definitely organized — not only were they gathering at the four targets before attacking, but they were also obviously weighted according to the level of resistance those targets were likely to put up. While the dots across from the slave center and around the government office building were thinly scattered, they were getting thick on the ground around the block completely filled by the station house, along streets where they couldn’t be observed by its defenders. And there were so many around the mansion that they were merging into an indistinguishable mass.

“What about our patrolmen I ordered to come here?” Morimasa asked. “Were any of them attacked?”

“No, none,” Goro replied. “And the ... mob? ... rioters? ... Neither seems to fit.”

“Just don’t call them rebels, that has a specific legal definition with a _very_ specific legal response.”

“Got it.” Goro shuddered — he’d seen the crucifixions that followed raids on the slave smuggling transshipment point and brothels. “The ... protesters had plenty of opportunities to attack patrolmen coming in, but none of them did. Still, when things got tight enough that there’d be no way for our men to escape if attacked I ordered the stragglers to stay out and join the ones keeping watch.”

“How about the station house?”

“Got it covered, here’s our positions.” Goro quickly typed for a few seconds, and the map shrank as several new windows opened up with maps of the floors of the station house, blue dots for the people positioned at windows and doors.

Morimasa nodded, straightening. “Good call. Feed this to my computer. Are you feeding this to Kuno-dono’s people?” Goro gave the captain an exaggeratedly offended look, and Morimasa chuckled. “Right, forget I asked.” Turning back to his desk, he sat down, brought up the same map he’d just been looking at on Goro’s monitor, and hit the speed dial button for the Kuno mansion.

/oOo\

“Yes, Captain, you are unfortunately correct,” the Master of Servants said heavily to the image of the Chief of Law Enforcement showing in an open window on his monitor even as he kept half his attention on the second monitor repeating the Nerima map being fed from the station house. “I’ve spoken with Takeuchi-san, and he won’t be able to have sizable numbers of Kuno Security back in Nerima for at least half a day. That won’t be a problem for the estate, not with the booby traps our previous lord ordered emplaced, and the servants should be able to deal with any that manage to make it through, but we won’t be able to do anything for the rest of the lording. How about you, can you hold?”

“It depends on what they bring to the party,” Captain Kasai replied, “But —” He broke off as his eyes flicked to the side away from the camera, and when he refocused on Pyo his face had gone grim. “It looks like we’re about to find out.”

Pyo nodded his agreement, his own gaze shifting between the captain and the map where the dots around the station house were suddenly in motion toward the building in the center. “Agreed. See to your people, Captain, I’ll see to the mansion.” He disconnected even as Captain Kasai acknowledged the unnecessary order, and hit a speed dial button. Within less than a minute a fresh window opened with the image of Kuno. “My Lord, I am sorry to report that we have an emergency....”

/oOo\

Even as the Master of Servant’s image vanished from his monitor, Morimasa hit the intercom. “They’re on their way,” he said as calmly as he could manage. “Everyone who doesn’t have a window grab one, but don’t fire until they’re crossing the street and you can’t miss.” Then he was up and striding out of his office into the larger main room, drawing his own pistol. Even as he stepped into the room the last of his men were finding windows, and he waited for the shots that would tell him that the attack was rolling in ... and waited ... and waited....

Finally, he stepped to a nearby desk and used its computer to call Goro. “What’s happening?” he asked, voice strained with the effort to keep its tone even.

“Nothing, Captain,” his bewildered subordinate answered.

“Nothing ?!”

“Nothing. Here’s the outside cameras.” Goro’s image vanished as the screen split into eight windows, and Morimasa knew he was gaping as each showed solid masses of men and some women filling the streets feeding into the circle around the headquarters, most carrying staves and almost completely silent, simply standing in place. “I don’t understand ... what are they waiting for?” a bewildered-sounding Goro asked.

“I don’t — oh.” Morimasa stared at the monitor for a long moment, then dropped into the seat and laid his pistol on the desk. “Goro, get on the intercom, tell everyone that I’m ordering them to hold their fire so long as those people stay where they are.”

A moment later he heard the intercom announced his orders, then Goro’s voice again came from his computer. “Captain, what’s going on?”

Morimasa sighed, slumping back in his appropriated chair and rubbing at his face as he stared at the silent outside camera feeds. “Goro, those people aren’t there to take us down, they’re there to keep us _here_ — where we can either sit back and watch the show, or get ourselves killed trying to break out and go charging to the rescue.” _And my order to have our people gather here just put more of us in the trap._

There was a long moment of silence from his second in command, until Goro finally asked, “So what do we do?”

“Sit back and watch the show, what else can we do? We don’t have armored vehicles or serious anti-personnel weapons, that’s Security’s job.”

“Wonderful. Do you have any popcorn — too late, the show’s started.”

The outside camera feeds vanished from Morimasa’s screen to be replaced again by the Nerima map, and Morimasa tensed as he watched the red dots of the ‘protesters’ flow across the street toward the slave center while the ones around the government offices converged from all directions.


	33. Trip Wire

Okano Taisho frowned as he listened to his scouts’ reports from his seat at a table in the warehouse’s echoing shell, the rest of the table surrounded by the ronin’s team leaders. “So the mob hasn’t moved against the watch headquarters or estate yet, just the lording government offices and the slave center?”

“Right,” Kato Min Swun replied. “And whatever they’re trying to look like, they aren’t a mob. It’s obvious that they haven’t trained together, but it’s equally obvious they are following a plan of some sort.”

“What sort?”

Min Swun shrugged. “I have no idea what they are up to — outside of trapping most of Nerima Law Enforcement inside their headquarters, it doesn’t seem to make much sense.”

“Which means we’re missing something, because _that_ move was brilliant,” Taisho said thoughtfully, and a murmur of agreement rose from his gathered subordinates. Finally, he shrugged. “Regardless of whatever they’re planning, does anyone believe that they _aren’t_ going to go over the walls and storm the mansion?” When no one responded he straightened in his seat. “That’s it, then — we let them go first so they absorb and reveal the automated defenses and weaken whatever security forces might be left for us, then go in behind them. Anything else?”

“Yeah, I got a concern, boss,” Dan Yuji said. “We’re going to have a tough time having our involvement seen as just one more part of the riot. It doesn’t do us much good to be using Kuno equipment if we’re the _only_ ones using it — the mob’s armed with those staves and a few katana, naginata, the usual for Nerima and not a modern weapon that I can see in any of the scouts’ feeds.”

“Good point,” Taisho agreed. “Everyone, have your men bring along the extra guns. Then when we’ve emptied a few clips we can drop the fired guns off by local dead bodies and switch to the backups.” After a moment’s thought, he added, “And it also means we can’t move into the forward positions, we’d stick out too much, might possibly be taken for Kuno Security in the dark — the last thing we want is for the so-called ‘mob’ to turn on _us_. We’ll just have to wait here in the warehouse until it’s time to move, then go from here to over the walls and into the mansion in one long rush.” Glancing around, he saw some grimaces but no disagreement. “All right, we have a plan, such as it is. Let your men know to wait for my word, then let’s bring the map up and pick our routes.”

/oOo\

Kuno stared at the image of the Master of Servants on his suite’s vidphone monitor, the room seeming to sway as he fought to comprehend what he’d just been told. “A mob? _Here?_ But _why_?”

Pyo paused, considered, and finally said, “My lord, there are those in the lording that ... took Ranma at face value. They ... resent ... the perceived injustice in your acqui — in your freeing the lady Ranko from his influence. To them, the destruction of the Cat Café seems to be a strike against the Sorcerer’s allies and so perhaps they place the blame on us. But now is not the time for why’s, we can study that out after the threat is over.”

After a long moment of consideration, Kuno reluctantly nodded. “You are correct. The automated defenses are active and your people in position?” he asked heavily.

Pyo nodded. “Yes, my lord, but with our security forces spread out and many of my people away on assignments, we are badly understaffed.”

“I am certain that if called upon to defend our sacred home they shall prove themselves worthy of the trust we have placed in them. But even as valiant as they are, they cannot be everywhere in a domicile so immense. Sound the alarm for all noncombatants to seek out the safe rooms. I will join you in the command center.”

“Yes my lord.”

Even as the monitor went blank, a siren began to wail. Usagi appeared in the doorway to the bedroom, eyes wide in a pale face, hands clenching the white apron of her French maid uniform at the sound of the alert that this time wasn’t a drill, then stepped back and to the side as her master strode past her toward his wardrobe, stripping off his shirt he as he went. “Kuno-dono, what’s going on?” Usagi asked in a shaking voice.

“Sadly, the mansion is under assault by a mob of my people that have been badly deceived by that foul scourge of my existence,” Kuno replied without looking back. Stepping out of the trousers that he typically wore to his office and grabbing a set of robes like he had worn to his father’s school (though of a _much_ higher quality), he continued, “Seek out the suite’s place of refuge, all will be well.”

“But what about Ranko?” Usagi demanded. “My mistress’s note said that she was seeking a quiet place to meditate, and I don’t think anyone ever told her about the safe rooms!”

“If the mob is indeed made up of pawns of the sorcerer Saotome, then my lady will be the safest person in the mansion — he will be seeking to reacquire the beauty I had freed from his foul embrace, not to murder her. And if he himself is not here —” Kuno broke off for a moment at the thought ... now that he considered it, his agreement with that depraved seducer _could_ be understood to mean that Ranma wasn’t prohibited from _interfering_ within the Lording, just _entering_ the Lording. A clever loophole he should have seen, not that it mattered ... between forcing Akane to bear his foul seed and now this attack, the agreement was clearly void. Kuno shook away the distraction, he had more immediate concerns. “— if he is not here, there will not be a person in that mob that can touch her, or any twenty people. Even I can best her only with the most strenuous of efforts.” He checked the placement of the Kuno Family blade and its companion wakizashi in his obi, then turned and smiled gently at his young slave. “Now go and seek out your den, little rabbit. Your mistress will wish your companionship when this is over, as will the fire of my soul, my lady Akane.”

Usagi stiffened, then took a deep breath and nodded. “Of course, Master,” she said.

Kuno chuckled. It hadn’t taken long after Usagi’s purchase for her to start using _that_ particular title when she was less than happy with him. “You do not have like it, only do it,” he said as he strode past her out of the bedroom and toward the door leading to the rest of the mansion.

/\

Usagi watched her master leave, mind whirling. Why was the mob gathering now? Had Kuno-dono finally moved against Akane as he had hinted? Did it have anything to do with Ranma vanishing? When the blonde had woken up from her little afternoon nap and found the note from her mistress saying that Ranma was seeking some privacy for meditation she’d been suspicious.... _And there isn’t a thing you can do about it, whatever has happened. All you can do is run and hide, and wait._ The normally bubbly blonde wiped at watery eyes. She was _not_ going to break down — when it was all over, whatever happened, Ranma and Akane would find her ready to help them however she could.

Resolution made, she patted at a pocket of her apron, then began to hastily look around the suite. There was no way she was going hide _all alone_ in the suite’s safe room. It might be different if she was authorized to use the hideaway’s computer for more than registering her presence and playing games while waiting for the all-clear, but she wasn’t ... besides, she suddenly felt the need for a friend. Ami’s safe room was halfway across the mansion so she’d have to run to reach it before they closed and locked the door, and she couldn’t remember where she’d put down her slave chain when she’d taken it from around her neck....

/oOo\

In her private prison cell masquerading as a luxurious suite, Kodachi leaned back in her chair, staring at the computer monitor as she considered the figures and statistics she’d been compiling, comparing and considering over the last few weeks. Much as she hated to admit it, her brother had had a point about finding a purpose for her existence beyond embarrassing her father. In truth it was a point easily made, because she had been getting a little bored — bored with public scandal, bored with meaningless sex, bored with teasing the Saotomes and Tendos (well, not so much the latter, though making it something other than simply a rehash of previous encounters had been getting difficult).

The ‘problem’ (read, opportunity) was that her brother undoubtedly expected her to ‘come to her senses’ and take up the activities of others of her class and social position — running the household, promoting some popular charity or other (something the Christians had first popularized but had proven remarkably popular with a large segment of the common people, at least when the alternative was selling off family members), and looking graceful and well-mannered in the service of her husband. Though perhaps not the last, her previously eager (not to say vigorous) pursuit of her reputation as a slut hadn’t done much for her marriage prospects. That had been the idea, of course, and it wasn’t as if there were any men out there that she actually wanted ... or women, for that matter. _Perhaps_ dearest _brother is right, if not the way he intended it — when something as pleasurable as sex starts to be more trouble than it’s worth, it’s time for a break. Perhaps by the time I convince him to lift the house arrest it will have regained some of its appeal. The limits placed on my opportunities by the need to be discreet ought to help keep me from getting bored with it again._ Not that she was entirely pleased with her enforced celibacy, but Hahn had refused her subtle — and then not so subtle — hints. And if she even hinted at an interest in that cute, bubbly-happy blonde slave the only question would be who would kill her first, her redheaded friend or her brother.

Shaking herself free of the tangent her mind had wandered down — it wasn’t like she could do anything about it even if she wanted to — she returned her focus to her monitor, and its fact and figures. The truth was that the only aspect of her former lifestyle that hadn’t been growing stale was her Art, and _that_ was what she’d decided to focus on ... the promotion of Rhythmic Gymnastics beyond a diversion for the limited number of teenagers that currently practiced it in school and promptly dropped it upon reaching adulthood, to make it into a respected form of adult entertainment and exercise. Yes, that could work. The mix of exercise and practiced grace would be attractive, and she could mix in a very basic level of unarmed combat — enough that her students could deal with any but trained warriors. _And my stick-up-the-ass brother won’t be able to complain, no matter how frivolous he thinks it is,_ Kodachi thought gleefully. Yes, this new game of playing with her brother while appearing perfectly respectable had real possibilities….

Then an image flashed across Kodachi’s mind, of a redhead standing braced for action in one of the estate’s gardens in the moonlight of her first night at the Kuno mansion. The younger Kuno’s moment of humor drained away as her shoulders slumped. The likelihood that she was going to get the opportunity to taunt her brother —

Kodachi jumped as the siren sounded that she had previously only heard (and ignored) during the occasional drill. But those drills had always been preplanned and announced, to make sure none of the servants would start something that couldn’t be shut down.... Kodachi whirled in her seat. “Hahn! What’s going on?”

Her purple-clothed minder stepped away from her usual place against the wall. “Mistress, a mob has been gathering around the estate, and your brother has ordered all servants not tasked with defense to the safe rooms.”

Kodachi gaped at her shadow of the last few weeks, then whirled back around to her computer.

“Mistress, please, you must get to safety!” Hahn protested.

Without looking up, Kodachi replied, “The trapdor to the corridor to my safe room is four paces away. Unless that mob has tactical nukes, there’s no way they can stop us from getting to safety whenever we choose. Now, where’s — ah! Found it.”

Hahn walked over to look over her mistress’s shoulder, but she already knew what she would see from the chant coming through the computer’s speakers. Rather than the feral snarl of an angry mob capable of weakening knees and loosening bowels, there was a line of people stretching along the sidewalk across the street from the wall surrounding the estate, and a deep, rumbling chant: “Cat Café! Cat Café! Cat Café!”

Kodachi stared at the scene for a long moment. “ ‘Cat Café’? Why would they be ... ?”

Hahn felt her heart sink as her mistress brought up the search engine for the ‘net and started typing. “Mistress, _please_ ... !” And the monitor was filled with an image of a massive hole half filled with water, the buildings around it collapsed into ruin.

Kodachi was still, staring as the water level in the hole slowly rose. In a quiet voice, she said, “My brother has finally made his move, hasn’t he?”

Hahn fought to keep her shoulders from slumping in despair. “Akane tested positive on a pregnancy test,” she responded just as quietly. “When Kuno-dono learned of it, he ordered her to be brought in and the pregnancy terminated. Pyo-sensei knew that when the rest of her people found out about it — especially Ranma and his father, and Ku Lon — they would take this mansion apart wall by wall until they found her. So he ordered a preemptive strike.”

“It seems the Amazons have been dealt with. The rest?”

Hahn hesitated briefly, then sighed. It wasn’t like her mistress ( _and friend,_ a part of her added) wouldn’t learn later, or that refusing to tell her would change what was inevitably coming. “Konatsu and Ukyo are dead. An assault on the Tendo dojo is taking place as we speak. Their orders are to leave Kasumi-san and Nodoka alive if possible, but Nabiki and especially Genma are major threats to be eliminated.”

Rising from her seat and turning to face her minder, Kodachi asked, “And Akane? Has her pregnancy been terminated yet?”

“No. Pyo-sensei decided that Akane’s ... attitude adjustment could wait until after Ranma had been ... readjusted, and that is being taken care of in the subbasement right now.”

Kodachi stared at her shadow, suddenly lightheaded as she blanched, and caught hold of the back of her chair to hold herself upright. “And after that, Akane will _want_ the abortion,” she whispered.

“True, so Pyo-sensei believes,” Hahn agreed. “And he believes that handling it in that order will strengthen Akane’s Adjustment.”

Kodachi straightened and strode toward the door. “Come on, we have to stop this travesty —” she started, only to slam to a halt as Hahn stepped in front of the door, her stance _very_ familiar to Kodachi after their weeks of sparring. “Hahn, you cannot think this is right,” she said. “I know you follow Bushido, but this ... this is _evil_!”

“I know, mistress,” Hahn replied, her voice shaking slightly. “But I have no leeway in the matter — I am sworn to the service of the Kuno Family as represented by its accepted head, and I cannot in honor choose which of my sworn lord’s goals and orders to carry out.”

“Then if you can’t join me, just step aside and leave stopping this abomination to me ... please,” Kodachi begged, voice tight as she fought to control her rising desperation.

Hahn shook her head. “I am sorry mistress, I truly wish I could,” she said, the shaking in her voice even more pronounced. “But unlike me, you have choices. Two, to be exact — you can either use your suite’s safe room, or you can fight me.”

Kodachi stared at the ninja, desperately trying to think of some way to convince Hahn that she was wrong, some way to acquire the packets of knockout powder she had smuggled into her room from her greenhouse/chemical lab, and her despair grew as she came up empty ... and realized just how important the ninja had become to her since being assigned as her minder. Finally, she laughed bitterly. “No, _Hahn-chan_ , I have no more choice than you do. Funny, isn’t it? Thanks to you and Ranma I have less freedom now than I did when my _dearest_ brother stuck me in this nunnery.”

Stepping back, the Kuno heir rotated her arms and shoulders, felt the twinges left over from her ‘demonstration spar’ with Genma, but only twinges — her bout with the Anything Goes master had indeed been as painful as she’d feared, but he had been careful not to do her any lasting damage while actually drawing out her various attacks and counters, making it the learning experience for his students he had said it would be. Satisfied, she again shifted her gaze back to her friend, suppressing a frown. Hahn should have taken advantage of her mistress’s apparent distraction, it would have been her best chance to take Kodachi down quickly and mostly harmlessly, but she hadn’t. It was possible she’d seen through her mistress’s act, but Kodachi had years of practice. And the ninja had been awfully talkative for someone supposed to keep her charge _away_ from the action... _What at you playing at Hahn?_ Kodachi shrugged the thought away as she stepped forward. Whatever her bodyguard, jailor, and friend was up to, she didn’t have time to figure it out. “So, let’s see which of us is the best when it counts.”

/oOo\

At the sound of the siren coming faintly from the speaker hidden somewhere in the shiny steel walls of her brightly lit prison, Akane raised her head from where she sat curled up on the steel-framed, lightly padded bed that along with a sink and toilet were the room’s only fixtures. Letting go of the legs pulled up against her breasts, she stood up and scrubbed at puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. After how brutally Ukyo had been killed and the efficiency with which the youngest Tendo had been taken down, Akane was deathly afraid that this time Ranma wouldn’t be coming to the rescue — surely people that had put as much thought as they had into her capture had done the same for how to deal with her lover (a label ... a hope ... she clung to even as she shivered). But something was happening, so perhaps _this_ time she would be able to rescue herself.

/oOo\

Kuno strode into the command center for the mansion and glanced around at the men and women manning the various consoles lining the walls underneath the banks of monitors. The Family retainers had looked up at his entrance and quickly bowed in their seats, but per emergency protocols had immediately turned back to their duties rather than further acknowledge their lord’s presence. His gaze swept the screens — all showing different locations around the mansion and the streets beyond the clear zones outside the walls ringing the estate grounds — then fell on two retainers that hadn’t looked up, and he strode over to join the Master of Servants and the Kuno Family steward.

As Kuno came up behind him, Kasuse Morimasa was saying, “ ... get your men out while the escape route is still clear. Let them have the building — the records are all backed up down to the secretaries’ personal playtime files and none of those secretaries are there. If the rioters turn it into a pile of rubble all we’ve lost is cost of renting temporary office space while rebuilding, and the lording gets a public holiday while the temporary space is set up.”

“Thank you, Kasuse-sama, I’ll get right on it,” Kuno heard a voice thick with relief respond. A vidphone window disappeared, and Pyo and Morimasa turned so they could see their lord while keeping an eye on the stack of monitors. Several monitors showed aerial views of buildings Kuno recognized as the slave center and the lording government building. From the slow circling and accompanying sound, the images sent from helicopters.

“Report,” Kuno ordered.

“My lord, there hasn’t been any real changes since we spoke,” Pyo replied. “The mobs have moved into the slave center and the government building, but are still holding back from the station and estate — possibly because the first two are lightly defended at best, and the second two aren’t.”

“Any casualties yet?”

Morimasa said, “A retreating security guard at the government building went for his gun when rioters cut him off and demanded his surrender. From the amount of blood other guards saw from across the room as they were leaving, he probably took a knife to the throat. But that’s the only casualty that we’ve heard of, though there might be more at the slave center. Security there didn’t link into the lording security ‘net.” The steward abruptly winced, and Kuno followed his gaze to the monitors to see fire belching from a government office window. Morimasa added, “But however bloodless tonight might be, it is going to be _expensive_.”

Kuno shrugged. “You were right earlier — if it is only property, it can be replaced. Now, I would review the dispositions of the estate defenders.”

Pyo stepped over to a station against the wall to the right that wasn’t being used and windows with floor plans and a map of the estate grounds opened on several of the station’s stack of monitors. “Here you are, my lord, the blue dots are various remote controlled and automated defenses, the green dots are our people. Move the trackball over a dot to find out what or who it is, right click for details. The red mass along the border of two sides of the estate grounds is the gathering mob.”

Kuno stepped over to join him and sat down at the station, shifting his swords in his obi as he sat so that they could still be drawn. “Thank you. Return to your duties, if I have further questions I will call.”

Pyo bowed and turned away. As the Master of Servants began a circuit of the room checking each occupied station, Kuno turned his focus to the maps. The one for the estate grounds was glanced at and then ignored — he was already familiar with the estate’s defenses and no personnel were outside the mansion — but when he checked the floor plans he frowned. Even with Kuno Security scattered everywhere _but_ the home estate, there weren’t enough green dots — he _knew_ there were more ninja assigned to the mansion than he was seeing. Perhaps some were flanking the mob? He quickly expanded the map, but no additional personnel appeared. Kuno’s frown deepened, and he continued bringing more and more of Nerima into view, until additional green dots appeared on one edge, an amorphous group moving toward the Kuno estate at running speed, and from the way their path failed to follow the street map they were obviously roofhopping.

Kuno leaned back in his chair, so deep in thought that the continued chant of “Cat Café!” coming from other consoles’ speakers barely registered. Something was off about the whole situation, both the mob and the Kuno retainers returning. The coincidental timing was troubling, but how could the two events be related? Wherever his people were coming back from, it wasn’t the Cat Café. He certainly hadn’t ordered any major strikes, and the numbers looked to be a sizable majority of the ninja stationed at the estate.... Kuno straightened and quickly typed in a query, and stiffened at the number reported — the combined total of Kuno retainers present ... ninjas, under the current circumstances — was actually _higher_ than the number he’d understood to be permanently assigned to the home estate. So either a sizeable contingent had been transferred back from outlying properties or an equally sizeable number of ronin had been hired, and either way he hadn’t been informed of any major operations.

_Come to think of it, where_ are _they coming back from?_ he thought, then shrugged microscopically. The returning force was moving in a more or less straight line, so ... Kuno shifted the position of the estate on the district map from the center of the screen to one edge, drew a line from the mansion through the reinforcements, and froze when the line crossed the all too familiar Tendo dojo, where another single green dot glowed. Heart sinking, Kuno did something he should have done to begin with, searching for images of the destroyed Cat Café, only to gasp at the video that came up of the massive hole where the café had been, and the piles of rubble that was all that was left of the buildings around it. There was no way that had been an accident, not _that_ level of destruction, and combined with the timing of the apparent strike on the home of his beloveds’ people —

“ _Here they come!_ ”

At the loud shout from one of the retainers across the room, two instant keystrokes shifted the map on Kuno’s monitor to the monitor directly above it, replacing it with a montage of the cameras along the estate walls facing the mob. He sucked in his breath at the images of the suddenly screaming mass of his subjects charging the wall, toward the invisible line that would activate the automated defenses. Heartsick, he closed his eyes and waited for the sound of chattering machineguns for a moment before forcing himself to again open his eyes and stare at the screens. How many of his people had Pyo’s stupidity killed? How many more were about to be added to the list? If he couldn’t prevent it without killing his own retainers, he could at least watch.

Then the first of the rioters were across the invisible line, and a red light flashed on his console as the defenses activated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got the bit about the dead security guard from a real-world military coup in Guatemala in the `80s. A presidential guard, finding himself surrounded by soldiers and away from cover, went for his gun and was shot to doll rags. He was the only fatality, and would have been a fine contender for a Darwin Award.


	34. Reaping the Whirlwind

Hiroshi stood in the front ranks of the ‘mob’ that Nabiki’s message had called out, almost deafened by the mantra of “Cat Café!” endlessly bellowed out, staring mesmerized at the Kuno estate wall across the street and a wide, open space covered by lawn. His wristwatch vibrated with the five minute warning and it was all he could do to keep from fainting from the shock, only then realizing that he was hyperventilating to the point that he was going lightheaded. _Easy, Hiroshi,_ he thought as he fought to control his breathing, _Ranma’s counting on you, don’t blow it._ For a moment his mind wandered back to time- and repetition-worn speculation on just how Nabiki’s plan was supposed to help, but he quickly dismissed it as useless — he didn’t think for a moment that he knew enough of the big picture, and it wasn’t like he could actually talk about it with anyone that had answers. Nobody could, not without possibly implicating themselves — and anyone brought up on charges after _this_ wouldn’t be spending the rest of their lives as slaves, they’d end it shrieking out their pain as they were crucified.

He shuddered at the thought and realized he was hyperventilating again. For a distraction, he glanced around at the heterogeneous collection of people surrounding him — students, salarymen, men that had gotten their muscular builds from hard labor, many others with the sleekly hard muscles of martial artists, even a few housewives scattered throughout. None from the team that had helped him destroy the slave center’s massive viewing screens, though, they’d been ordered to scatter themselves through the crowd to avoid drawing the attention of any ninjas that might have been tracking them earlier —

“Found you!”

Hiroshi glanced to the side and froze, face stiffening at the sight of his former best friend Daisuke standing beside him. “What are _you_ doing here?” he growled.

“It wasn’t exactly hard,” Daisuke replied with a shrug. “Just look out the window after the Cat Café exploded, then follow the people in the street.”

“No, what are _you_ doing here?”

Daisuke stared at Hiroshi’s cold glare for a moment before turning to stare at the estate wall across the street. “When I first heard about what had happened to Ranma ... remember the stories we used to tell each other, about what it would be like to have Ranma’s girl-side at our beck and call?” Hiroshi flushed with shame and turned to also stare at the wall in front of them as Daisuke continued, “When ‘Ranko’ was sold ... it just seemed like more of the same, the talk about what Kuno-dono was getting out of his new slave, the auction pictures going around. And when you cut me off, stopped hanging around with me outside of school, stopped speaking to me altogether, it just seemed like you were a self-righteous hypocrite — until Sayuri caught me ranting at Masahiro about you and ripped into me about the difference between daydreams and real life, what it would be like if _I_ found myself in Ranma’s position. After I got over my shock and actually thought about what she’d said, I realized she was right. Since then, I’ve been trying to work up the guts to tell you I was wrong. Then the Cat Café blew up, and ... well, this just seems like the place to be.”

Daisuke fell silent, and Hiroshi continued to stare at the wall for a long minute, his recent anger and disgust with his friend warring with memories of the good times before everything went wrong, guilt from memories of his own daydreams mixed in. Finally, he sighed and turned again to look at his friend. “You haven’t had any training and you don’t know what’s going on, so when I charge, hold back for the third wave and just stay close.”

Daisuke glanced over at him, and grinned. “You got it, this time you’re the boss.”

Hiroshi grinned back, and his watch buzzed against his wrist again ... one minute. Turning back to face the wall, he found himself counting down the seconds to the final signal as the shouting quickly died away ... and it was time. _At least Sayuri and Yuka are out of this._ He charged into the street, shouting something he instantly forgot as loudly as he could. Then he was across the street, up onto the lawn, and he felt his stomach drop as portals along the top of the wall popped open and a line of what looked like submachine guns without butts rose into view with their muzzles pointed at the night sky.

/\

Tucked away in the depths of the Kuno network, a program recognized the change of status in the Kuno defenses. It had been created long before by Nabiki on a whim after her then-schoolmate Tatewaki had foolishly allowed her access to his account long enough for her to create a backdoor. After she verified that his ascension from out of favor heir to actual lord of Nerima gave her access to the entire Kuno network, she’d updated and improved her little pipedream before setting it loose to hide within enemy territory and wait for her signal. That signal had come less than half an hour before, and now the activation of the automated defenses pulled the tripwire.

/\

The guns along the estate wall began to come level and the shouting all around Hiroshi suddenly had a panicked edge to it. But neither of those on either side of him broke off their charge, and then the panic making his heart pound turned to a relief just as gut-wrenching as the guns froze with their muzzles still pointed at the horizon. Behind him, a deep triumphant roar went up.

Hiroshi reached the wall and whirled around to see the second rank racing toward him, all large, husky men. As soon as they reached the wall they paired off, joining hands to form cradles. Hiroshi stepped out to face one of the pairs and leaped up, foot coming down in the cradle, and with a heave they threw him upward, high enough that he was able to grab the top of the wall and pull himself up to sit between two of the gun emplacements. He swung one leg over so that he was straddling the wall, then scooted to one side to make room for another teenager and looked back toward the ‘mob’. A moment later an acquaintance from his gymn class joined him on the wall.

The third rank was charging forward now, and Hiroshi’s gaze fixed on Daisuke racing straight toward him. Daisuke leaped, his foot caught the hand-cradle of the men below his friend on the wall, and Hiroshi and his partner caught Daisuke’s arms and _pulled_ , and he was on the wall between them. People dropped down into the estate grounds on either side of them, and Hiroshi murmured, “Wait for me.” Daisuke nodded and dropped down to join the growing crowd on the inside, and Hiroshi and his partner turned back to catch the next in line.

/\

In the command center, Kuno sat bolt upright as every light went out and the roar of the mob coming over the speakers cut off. As stunned silence filled the room, Kuno stared at his monitor screen — and the silent image of charging rioters frozen still. Hastily, Nerima’s lord rose to his feet, adjusting his katana and wakizashi. “My computer has frozen, what is happening?” he demanded, looking around a room lighted by what little was shining from the monitors.

For a moment no one answered, then a murmur raced through the room: “My computer’s frozen, too!” “Mine as well.” “Same here!”

A sick feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, Kuno asked, “Does _anyone_ have a functioning console?”

Silence.

“Do we yet have the ability to communicate with our faithful defenders?”

More silence.

Slowly, Kuno turned toward his steward and Master of Servants. “Pyo, what do you believe has happened?”

Pyo straightened from where he’d been leaning over a frantically typing Morimasa and walked over to flip a switch on the wall by the door. As dim emergency lighting filled the room, he turned to face his lord, face unreadable. “My lord, Nabiki must have somehow slipped an attack program into our system,” he said with forced calm. “I don’t know how she could have — our people have seen her work and she simply isn’t good enough to get through our defenses, no one is. And even if some ronin _is_ good enough, she doesn’t have the funds to afford him. But somehow she did it, and our entire network is frozen. We will need to take it all down and reboot with backups at once — Morimasa and I have already tried rebooting an individual system and it failed — but that will take time, more time than we have. And our communications are routed through our ‘net, so that is gone as well. Also, I cannot believe that only our computers are affected, what is the point in blinding us if our automated defenses still function?”

“The safe rooms?”

“Their computers are in the same shape as ours, of course, but otherwise they are fine. If you will remember, the locks on the main entrances and escape tunnels are mechanical, not electronic, and all ventilation and lighting are powered by their own individual generators. They will have no difficulty waiting until our security forces from other facilities arrive.”

“The Family shrine?”

Pyo glanced over his shoulder at a panel of green studs alongside his frozen console. “The automatic barriers report closing when the order was issued for everyone to seek the safe rooms, the Family shrine will remain isolated until the network is restored and the password-protected order sent.”

“Excellent.” Kuno glanced around the room. _I have been reacting to the press of events, swept away by the flood rather than directing the flow. It is time for that to change._ “Is there any here that does not have the layout of the mansion committed to memory?” When no one spoke up, he strode over to a console close to the entrance whose frozen monitors showed the mansion floor plans with the green dots representing the estate’s defenders. “Everyone gather around,” he ordered. To the first retainer to step up next to him, he pointed to the scattering of green dots at the doors closest to the mob. “Even with our defenses down, it will take my sadly deceived subjects some time to get over the estate walls. I want you to seek out our valiant defenders in this part of the mansion and order them to evade if you are so fortunate as to arrive before my poor people, or break contact with them if not. They are to continue to avoid contact even if it means leaving the estate grounds. As soon as you have done so, return here.”

Two quick-witted retainers had opened the doors as Kuno had been speaking, and the first retainer left the command center at a run as the next stepped up beside her lord. Kuno continued pointing out other groups of defenders close to the mob and issuing the same orders until he was alone in the command center except for his steward and the Master of Servants.

As the last of the retainers dashed out of the center, Kuno turned to face two of his three chief subordinates, gripping the hilts of his two blades, and strode over to stand a few yards away from the pair. Pyo’s face was blank, but the confused expression on the face of the steward forced a bitter chuckle from his lord. “You have a question, Morimasa?” he asked.

“I ... I ...” Taking a deep breath, Morimasa asked, “My lord, why aren’t we defending our home from the mob?”

As you told the one heading our valiant defenders at the government building, it is but a building. If my people reduce this our home to nothing but a charred frame, our people will be safe, the family shrine will survive, and we have the wealth to rebuild an uncountable number of new estates — but preventing that destruction is not worth the cost of a single member of that mob when their cause is just.”

Ignoring the stunned shock on Morimasa’s face, Kuno turned to face the Master of Servants. “Tell me, Pyo, just how many of my people did you slaughter when you ordered the annihilation of the Sorcerer Saotome’s foreign supporters?”

“My lord? Why do —”

Kuno chopped off his question with a savage gesture before returning his hand to his katana’s hilt. “Do not think me the fool, _Master of Servants_! When I saw the larger number of your people returning from the Tendo compound — more than were reported to me as having been assigned the defense of my Family’s heart when combined with those few still here — it was obvious what you felt it necessary to do. Why did you not also feel it necessary to lay out these plans before me, to seek out my own thoughts ... and permission?”

“My lord, I _had to_ order those strikes,” Pyo replied, his expressionless façade beginning to crack as he fought to keep his voice steady. “As soon as it was known that you had ordered us to liberate the glorious Akane from the seed of the monster they supported, they would have swarmed over us to seek to prevent it — and none of our people here except yourself and perhaps your sister could match them. A preemptive strike was the only way.”

“I said not to think me the fool, Pyo,” Kuno said, his own voice cold as steel. “Under the press of events I did not consider this possibility, it is true, but it is obvious enough in retrospect. I would have certainly approved such, however distasteful it would be. But what you knew I would _not_ approve is the deaths of my own people, bystanders innocent of all except being neighbors of my foes or perhaps wishing a repast before making their way home to their families. So I ask again, _Master of Servants_ , how many of _my_ people did you foully murder when you ordered the destruction of the Cat Café?”

“I don’t know, my lord,” Pyo whispered.

“Nor do I, but I will. But you will not.”

Pyo stared at his lord, the fury in Kuno’s eyes, and seemed to shrink. “Very well, my lord,” he said tonelessly, “I have a tanto in my quarters —”

The Family blade whispered from its sheath as Kuno swept it across his retainer’s stomach in one long smooth draw. Even as Pyo grabbed at the gaping wound cut almost to the backbone, the arcing blade left a half-circle trail of spattered blood across the keyboards and monitors of the consoles along the nearest wall as Kuno swept it back around and cleanly through the Master of Servant’s neck. Pyo’s head fell away to bounce and roll into the center of the room.

Morimasa yelped as blood from the spilling, gaping stomach wound of the collapsing corpse splashed across his legs, then turned and bent over as his excellent dinner joined the spreading red on the floor.

Kuno turned to avoid embarrassing his steward by watching. He pulled out a cloth and wiped the blade clean until the sound of retching ceased. Without turning around, he resheathed the katana and said, “Morimasa, in spite of your skill in kendo your responsibilities do not extend to defending my House with your body, and there are no longer any tasks requiring your presence here. Seek your quarters and refresh yourself, then search out a room on the far side of our domicile from my angry people with a lock. Surely, they will not be able to break into every locked room in this sprawling building before our security returns. And if they set our domicile afire, you will have the greatest opportunity to escape both the fire and the people.”

Morimasa straightened. Wiping at his mouth, he said, “No, my lord, I would rather be here.”

“Very well. But seek your quarters to refresh yourself, then return if you wish and time permits.”

“Yes, my lord.” Morimasa bowed toward Kuno’s back, then stepped around his lord and walked out of the room, wincing as his house slippers squelched. Behind him, Kuno turned to stare down at the body lying on the floor for a long moment before turning away and striding over to stand in the doorway and stare down the hall as he waited for his retainers to return.

/oOo\

_How did my chain end up in the makeup table?!_ Usagi mentally wailed as she ran down a hallway, heedless of the rugs covering the floors or the graceful, slender — and fragile — tables placed in intervals along the walls with vases, plates and figurines displayed on their surfaces. It had taken her _way_ too long to find the slave chain whose pendant was now bouncing at her throat, and if she didn’t hurry —

The lights in their sconces lining the walls went out, and Usagi abruptly found herself charging through pitch darkness. She desperately tried to stop, her foot hooked one of the rugs covering the floor, and the training that Ranma had laboriously drilled into her over the past weeks took over and turned what would have been a massive belly-flop onto the hardwood floor into a tuck-and-roll. Her screamed “Waaaaaaaaaah!” ended in splintering wood and shattering pottery as her roll took the legs out from under one of the tables. “Owie ...”

The emergency lights came on, and Usagi sat up and stared about her in the dim light, then looked down at the wreckage and blanched at the sight of the shattered remains of one of the priceless Ming vases brought back from China when the first Kuno-dono — then simply a samurai — had fought beside his lord in the early Japanese conquests of mainland China and been rewarded for his service by being one of the first samurai elevated to the newly-created status of lord. “Now I’m _never_ gonna get out of debt!” she wailed as she climbed to her feet, before beginning to hiccup in distress.

Closing her eyes against threatening tears, she breathed deeply and fought her hiccups under control. “Okay, first things first,” she said firmly to herself. There was no way she was getting to Ami’s safe room now, or any other, for that matter — any that had still been open would have closed up as soon as the power went down. And _that_ meant turning around and going back to Kuno’s suite, and seeking shelter in his personal safe room ... all alone. The page-boy-haired blonde turned around and trudged back the way she came, beginning to sniffle. Then a thought struck her, and she brightened up immediately ... maybe, when the power went down, all the security cameras went down with it! She wouldn’t have the price of the vase and table added to her debt, after all! The trudge turned into an odd sort of skip-dance as she began singing a cheerful tune recently imported from the United States (by rote, of course, her English studies had been even less of a success than usual).

/oOo\

Matsumoto Hanh sidestepped her mistress’s thrusting fist, dropped an arm to redirect a knee aimed at her hip and spun Kodachi about just enough to leave the younger girl open to a short hammering blow to a kidney. Kodachi rode the blow, hopping back to rob it of impact, and her equally short kick slammed into Hanh’s gut, knocking her back and off her feet. The ninja rolled backward with her fall, bouncing back to her feet, only to find her mistress had backed up, breaking contact with her shadow for the moment. It was the first pause since Kodachi had begun her desperate fight to leave her quarters, and the two relaxed for a moment as they sucked in air in deep gasps. It had been a brutal fight up to that point, nothing like their spars as all rules had been disregarded. In fact, the only resemblance to their spars was that they both were trying to avoid inflicting permanent damage to each other — which in its own way made it worse, a fight that would have otherwise been over within a minute instead dragging on and on. Her mistress had learned her lessons in unarmed combat well.

As she slowly brought her breathing down from gasps to deep breaths, Hanh watched as Kodachi carefully avoided paying attention to a spot on the wall above a small table less than six feet away. _Yes, little princess, seek out your smuggled powders,_ Hanh thought, hiding a smile. That might actually work out — Hanh had begun replacing the tiny, easily ruptured bags with harmless flour as soon as she’d found her mistress’s hidden cubbyhole, but she hadn’t had the chance to switch the latest batch out yet, so if her mistress —

The lights went out.

In the suddenly pitch black room without even moonlight from the steel shutter-covered windows, Hanh instantly threw herself between Kodachi and the hidden cubicle, hands sweeping for contact with the martial gymnast’s body — and she stumbled and fell when her reaching hands found nothing but empty air. Tucking into a roll and again bouncing back to her feet, Hanh looked around desperately as the dim emergency lights came on, trying to find her young mistress, and froze. Kodachi was standing on the other side of the room next to her computer desk, the ribbon and one of the clubs that had been leaning against the wall there now in her hands.

“You didn’t think I’d notice the different texture between flour and my powders?” Kodachi asked, smiling tightly.

Hanh’s own smile was rueful. “And I thought I was being clever.”

“Oh, you were,” Kodachi agreed, smile broadening, “just not clever enough.” But her smile quickly faded. “Hanh-chan, please, get out of my way,” she pleaded softly. “You aren’t going to hurt me, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

Hanh blinked rapidly to keep forming tears from obscuring her vision — she couldn’t afford to give her opponent a single edge, as much as Kodachi had proven to have improved over the last few weeks — and shook her head. “No ... Kodachi-chan ... to get to the sub-basement you’ll need to get through me.”

Kodachi’s shoulders slumped slightly before firming again. “So be it,” she said regretfully, and with no warning at all her club was whirling through the air straight at Hanh’s face.

Hanh smiled wistfully as she ducked to the side. The hours she’d spent watching recordings of her mistress’s training sessions in her chosen Art were proving their worth (not the competitions, of course, the blatant cheating had made those recordings useless when they took place at all). Yes, the ki-saturated ribbon was whipping in exactly where Hanh would have been if she’d simply sidestepped as usual, perfectly aimed to wrap her up like a Christian Christmas present from the shoulders down to her waist. Instead, thanks to her duck she felt it wrap around her neck a few times before falling down her back, and Hanh twisted slightly, setting herself up for Kodachi’s instinctual follow-through.... It came, and Hanh was yanked off her feet, flying toward Kodachi as she felt the shock of her neck snapping run through her. Then she slammed into her mistress’s arms, her limp head bouncing against Kodachi’s shoulder, her gaze staring at the curve of the Kuno heir’s neck. Kodachi’s grip shifted as she stumbled back and Hanh found her fading sight looking up at the younger girl’s horrified face. Hanh tried to give her friend a reassuring smile. _I’m so sorry, Ko-chan, but my honor remains and you are free ..._

/\

Kodachi dropped to her knees, Hanh’s body in her arms, as she stared down at the open, empty eyes of the friend she’d just killed. She laid Hanh’s body on the floor and sat back on her heels, fighting back anguished sobs as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Oh, Hanh, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She reached out a trembling hand to trace the faint smile on Hanh’s lips as her mind replayed the whole horrible scene — whipping out her ribbon, the way Hanh had ducked as she sidestepped, Kodachi’s instinctive yank even as that ribbon wrapped around Hanh’s neck, the wet crack of her friend’s snapping neck as she flew through the air toward her, Hanh’s faint smile as she stared up at Kodachi just before the light went out of her eyes forever. She’d smiled....

_She did that deliberately!_ Kodachi thought, bolting to her feet as she thought back again to the odd move that had put Hanh’s neck at exactly the right level. Her fists clenched and for a moment she shook with rage until she glanced back down at Hanh, and the smile, and her anger drained away in the face of that still reality. Hanh had paid the ultimate price for her decision to let her mistress go free without hesitation. Kodachi knelt and gently lifted the body, carrying her friend into the bedroom to lay her out on the bed. “Don’t worry, Hanh,” she murmured as she reached down to straighten the head and trace the smile one last time, “if your honor was that important to you, to everyone else it’ll simply be a tragic accident. May the Amaterasu you believed in receive you into her court.”

Finally turning away from the body, Kodachi strode back into the main room and over to the hidden cubbyhole Hanh had found earlier. She pushed the hidden button to pop open the panel, then reached in and pulled out the packets stored within and spread them out on the table beneath the panel. A few minutes’ examination, more by feel than sight thanks to the dim emergency lighting, and she tucked the few packets that Hanh had missed or hadn’t had time to exchange into hidden pockets in the scarf she was wearing in lieu of a belt before walking over and scooping up her ribbon and another club and heading for the door to the rest of the mansion.


	35. "Armies" Rolling In

Hiroshi and his partner caught the hands of Hiroshi’s replacement and pulled him up beside them on the top of the Kuno estate wall, then Hiroshi turned to catch his staff, thrown up to him by one of the two husky men that had been tossing people up for him and his partner to catch. “Hey, Daisuke, catch!” Hiroshi called out to his friend on the other side of the wall, then tossed him the staff before swinging a leg over the wall and dropping down inside the Kuno estate. He glanced around in relief as he stretched and shook out aching arms before taking back the staff from Daisuke — now that the first and potentially the most lethal part of the plan was over, he could appreciate the size of the turnout. He’d been worried as the weeks went by that feelings might have cooled, but it looked like if anything they’d grown stronger. Either that or the destruction of the Cat Café had actually increased the turnout. He didn’t know who’d been recruited beyond his own group, Nabiki had coordinated everything, but he suspected there’d been others like Daisuke that had spontaneously joined the ‘mob’. Certainly, a lot of them weren’t carrying staves.

Then his partner on the wall dropped down beside him, and it was time. Hiroshi took a deep breath, and strode out in front of the people he’d helped over the wall. “Let’s go!” he shouted, pointing his staff toward the dark bulk of the mansion across the moonlit lawn, and broke into a run with Daisuke right beside him. Another roar bellowed out behind him.

In all too few seconds they were beside their assigned door and he flattened himself against the wall a few yards to the right of the entrance, pulling Daisuke to his side away from the door as an older man that moved like a martial artist did the same on the other side. Looking back, Hiroshi sighed with relief — it looked like everyone had followed and except for the couple of people on the other side of the door were standing back. He hadn’t _really_ doubted they would come with him, not with that shout, but it felt good to see it confirmed.

A husky man dressed like a construction worker and holding a crowbar stepped forward and slapped something on the door where the catch should be, then flattened himself against the wall beside Hiroshi and pulled out what looked like a cell phone. “Fire in the hole!” he called out, pressed a button on the phone, and the wall against Hiroshi’s back shook as the night flashed light with a roar. Hiroshi clapped a hand over his eyes and cursed — he was supposed to have done that _before_ the explosion — then dropped his hand and tried to blink away the afterimage as the construction worker stepped in front of the door, levered his crowbar into the hole where the catch had been, and _yanked_.

/\

The Kuno Family had always been an odd mix of eager looking forward to the future and nostalgic looking back to the past. The Family’s members had tended to be one or the other, the previous lord being the first and the current one the second, but its retainers didn’t have that luxury if they were to preserve the Family’s position in the Great Game. So they compromised by adopting the latest tech, while clinging to the Code of their ancestors — even if for many of those ancestors that Code had come in the wake of conquering Japanese armies. That devotion to the Code had been strained by the preemptive assaults against their lord’s enemies of the samurai class in violation of his oath, leading to otherwise unnecessary deaths among the ranks of the Family’s ninjas as when discretion permitted they’d faced the opposing samurai with cold steel and their own bodies rather than all the modern weapons at their disposal.

But facing a mob threatening to overrun the Family’s spiritual center, for many of those ninja holding the line that conflict had vanished — whatever else the mob might have been, it was mostly made up of commoners, after all, with only a leavening of martial artists in the mix, and all rising against their lawful lord. Which was why Jan Soo Mi was standing several yards from one of the doors to the outside closest to the rioters with a wakizashi on one hip and a wristbreaking 50-caliber revolver on the other, carrying a pump-fed short-barreled shotgun. She would never have considered either gun on any mission requiring stealth, not with the ear-blasting noise they made when fired, but as manstoppers they were hard to match.

Fighting to keep from constantly fidgeting and rechecking the readiness of her weapons, Soo Mi glanced sideways at what she could see of her longtime partner in training Kubo Parekura in the dim emergency lights — the only type of partner either had ever had, this was their first real engagement. He had chosen to silently express his own unhappiness with the whole situation by showing up at his assigned post bearing the traditional wakizashi and throwing knives. They had each looked over the other’s chosen arsenal in disapproval, but neither had said anything. Not only did they genuinely like each other, but it wasn’t their place to rebuke each other’s choice. _Besides, it isn’t like we’ll actually have to use them,_ she reassured herself yet again, her glance shifting back to the door as she refused to uselessly wipe hands on her pants that felt like they _ought_ to be sweaty inside their gloves. _After all, they have to get through the defenses first, and those defenses have their own battery packs so the power outage won’t affect them. Not that the mob seems to be coming, not a single explosion or gun firing out —_

The door exploded.

Actually, the _catch_ of the door exploded, and it must have been a shaped charge of some sort because most of the blast was aimed straight at Parekura standing in front of it, smashing him back with a bubbling shriek. Soo Mi caught the edge of the blast, a blow to her shoulder spinning her around as she simultaneously felt her side peppered with lancing stabs, but she kept to her feet. She glanced down at Parekura on the floor and felt her gorge rise at the sight of the shattered ruin of his chest and the chewed up, spilling guts below, the slowly spreading dark pool around him. He was still alive somehow, but not for long and she was grateful for the dim emergency lighting in the corridor that hid so much of the details of her dying friend.

The door sprang back along its track into the wall with a shriek of metal on metal, and Soo Mi looked up to see a massive human figure framed in the doorway by the moonlight from outside. Instantly, she spun to face him and hastily backed up as she lifted her shotgun and fired. The figure staggered as he took the load of spreading buckshot to the chest, and even as he fell and the person behind him tripped and sprawled over what had to be a corpse Soo Mi jacked the slide to chamber the next shell — and felt the slide slam to a halt halfway down the barrel. She glanced down to see a jagged piece of shrapnel sticking out the side of the shotgun’s action and dropped it to scrabble at the revolver at her side.

Another figure leaped over her kill and the rioter that had tripped over him, from the way he moved no commoner, with a throwing knife in each hand and she was still scrabbling at her gun and it was her wounded shoulder, but she didn’t have time to switch to a crossdraw. Then her gun was free and rising her other hand catching it to brace her wrist, but one of her attacker’s hands flickered even as her gun was rising and she pulled the trigger and her view of the doorway was washed away by the massive muzzle flash of the deafening gunshots.

But she couldn’t breathe, she was choking, and she dropped the gun as her hands went up to her throat to find a knife hilt. She felt her knees hit the floor, then the floor rose to hit her in the face. Rolling onto her side, she looked through the sparkling afterimage of the muzzle flash as it faded from sight along with what little she could see of the hallway beyond it and more dark figures coming through the open door behind the rising boy that had tripped. She tried to push herself up as the world an only succeeded in flipping herself onto her back as the world went black.

/\

Hiroshi pushed himself to his feet and stared down at the dimly lit body in front of him. The girl didn’t look any older than he was, and if he hadn’t tripped she would have ... have ... He leaned against the wall as he started to shake.

One of the men streaming past into the mansion paused. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Hiroshi nodded jerkily and straightened. “Yeah, just a really close call — first time being clumsy saved my life. Go on, I’ll be fine.”

The stranger nodded and knelt to pick up the handcannon beside the dead ninja before he hurried away toward the sounds of smashing pottery and furniture already coming toward them from within the building.

Hiroshi took a deep breath and looked around — no Daisuke. _He should have been right behind me. Good thing he wasn’t, or he’d be dead instead of whoever that was with the knives. He must have gone right past me in the dim light._ After a moment Hiroshi shrugged and joined the stream of ‘rioters’ moving into the mansion — if he couldn’t find his friend, Daisuke would just have to look out for himself. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t see everyone else leaving when the time came.

/oOo\

Okana Taisho sat in the same seat where he’d heard the scouts’ reports of what was turning out to be the rather odd uprising in Nerima, again reading his trashy blood-sex-and-honor novel as he waited for word that the mob was moving on the mansion. He was having serious trouble concentrating on his reader and the screen-saver had come on several times when he’d taken too long to turn a page — he was going to have to reread it all later — but it looked better than pacing.

Then his book vanished from the screen to be replaced by the face of Sasaki Shiro, one of the scouts. “They’re on the move, boss, going over the walls right now.”

Taisho instantly straightened. “Excellent! Along which route do you think they’ve soaked up more of the automated defenses?”

“None,” the scout replied, “the defenses aren’t working.”

“Not at all?!” Taisho demanded incredulously.

“They started up, you can see the guns sticking up from the wall, but they froze and haven’t fired a single shot. We can’t see over the wall, of course, but we aren’t hearing any mines going off either, and I can’t imagine that the defenses wouldn’t include them. Seems to me that Kuno’s been hacked.”

Taisho stared at his subordinate, trying the process the thought — his own team didn’t have a hacker, he hadn’t even considered including one because of the kind of security the major Families and Clans had protecting their home networks. _But maybe our patron’s hired one, and is clearing our path? Whatever, we need to move._ Shaking himself free of his introspection, he said, “In that case, we’ll take a slight detour and go over the wall to the left of the ... mob, whatever. That’ll give us a clear run into the mansion to look for our targets, we can find the local bodies we need to spice up the scene afterward. Map us out a route to the estate and make sure it’s clear while I get everyone moving.”

Shiro acknowledged the order and signed off, and Taisho hit the icon for an all-call to his lieutenants.

/oOo\

Izumi Noa fought against her rising unease as she silently soared through the night air toward the Kuno estate. Asuma had been right when he’d said she loved their little tanks, but he’d politely ignored her hatred of the powered gliders. Not that she wasn’t good with them, she was — the slim build and lack of height that made her perfect for the police tanks were just as big an advantage for the gliders. But as she swept down toward the Kuno mansion with the burning government building and slave auction center behind her, she reflected again that the gliders had their downsides as well and the first was how far out in front they often placed the people using them. That was the point, of course, to get people into place long before they might be able to move through possibly rioter-infested streets. But it could feel _very_ lonely.

She floated over the Kuno estate and watched the shouting mob cresting the walls and streaming toward the building. (She noted the automated defenses totally silent, and she resolved to bury her questions about how Setsuna knew that would be the case in the darkest corners of her mind never to see the light of day.) Then she was flaring down toward the mansion’s roof (or one of them, rather), hitting the quick releases that freed her from the straps holding her to the glider and dropping the last few yards to a peaked roof. As soon as her footing was secure, she swung her night-scoped rifle from off her back, secured its lanyard around her wrist so she wouldn’t lose it even if she slipped and dropped it, and chambered a round. This was the other aspect of using the gliders that she hated. In the mini-tanks, nonlethal force was not only possible, but the norm — between the armor, the stability granted by their structure and sheer weight, and the mutual support they could provide each other, they were the next thing to invulnerable from the usual run of rioting commoners, and security that provided gave the police the freedom to use softer means to dispel mobs. The same could not be said for those sent in by glider, where nonlethal force simply gave a mob permission to overrun their isolated positions. The fact that their opponents were going to be street samurai rather than the usual common mob just made it worse. She was going to have to kill this night, and she wasn’t looking forward to her dreams for the weeks it would take the memories to fade.

_Worry about it later._ Her roof’s peak ran across the path the attacking mercenaries would be using for their approach (something else she had no intention of asking Setsuna how she knew), so Noa chose a spot that provided an excellent view and good cover, then tapped the all-channel on her wrist communicator. “Count off,” she murmured into the microphone built into her helmet. As she swept her rifle’s scope along the top of the Kuno estate wall, she listened to the rest of her team report along with their readiness status and hoped that Lieutenant Shinohara and Setsuna didn’t dawdle.

/oOo\

“We’re here,” Setsuna announced from where she sat in the front seat of a tank hauler, sandwiched between the driver and Lieutenant Shinohara Asuma.

Asuma glanced down at the map displayed on the tablet in his temporary employer’s lap and nodded before activating his all-channel. “All right, this is as far as the trucks go,” he announced. “Let’s get the tanks off and ready to roll. No dawdling, we have people waiting for us.”

The drivers chorused back their acknowledgments as his and Setsuna’s ride braked to an easy stop. As soon as the truck came to a stop, Asuma pushed open the door and hopped out, eyes sweeping the doorways and windows of the homes along the street. Setsuna climbed down behind him, and the patrolmen riding on the back of the truck started releasing the chains holding the two tanks on the truck bed.

Even as Setsuna finished climbing down from the truck’s cab, car headlights flashed from a nearby alley. As a quarter of the patrolmen on guard whirled to face the alley mouth, a limousine slowly pulled out into the street. Setsuna relaxed at the sight. “Careful, everyone, they’re with me!” she called out. Asuma quirked an eyebrow at her but didn’t say anything as the limo’s driver side door opened and a large man slowly got out, empty hands in clear sight. Asuma instantly recognized him as one of those that had accompanied Setsuna on earlier visits to their farm encampment. He wasn’t the only one that recognized the burly bodyguard, and the patrolmen facing the limo relaxed, a murmur sweeping back as they passed the word to those whose areas of responsibility had kept them from seeing what was going on.

“You remember Genpaku-san?” Setsuna asked the lieutenant.

Asuma nodded and bowed shallowly to the mercenary (officially a mercenary, at least, though Setsuna had been his only employer). “I do. I presume you’ll be coming with us?” he asked the bodyguard.

Genpaku returned the bow, his own slightly deeper than Asuma’s. “Of course,” he replied. “Motoyuki and I will watch over Meioh-san, and that will leave you free to focus on seeing off the assassins.”

“Excellent,” Asuma said, then on hearing a clanking roar behind him turned to watch as the first of the tanks was backed down the ramp from the back of the truck. Turning back to Setsuna and her bodyguard as the sounds of the other tanks doing the same filled the street, he said to the emerald-haired woman, “I suppose it’s pointless to ask you to stay behind where you’ll be safe?”

“I can’t imagine anywhere in Nerima where I’d be safer than with you, Lieutenant,” Setsuna responded instantly with a faintly humorous smile.

Asuma sighed. “I knew you were going to say that. Very well, we’ll be advancing along three streets. I want you in that mobile fortress you call a limousine behind the advance of the middle force. I’ll detail a few tanks behind you as a rearguard. I expect you to _stay_ in that limo until it’s safe.”

“Of course, Lieutenant,” Setsuna said. “I have much too much to do still to die in a minor skirmish.”

Asuma shot her a sharp look ... this time she’d sounded completely serious, but there’d been an undertone of weariness that he didn’t understand. But a moment’s reflection didn’t reveal all in a revelatory blaze of glory, so he shrugged internally. “You have one of our communicators,” he said. “Go ahead and get into your car and wait for my orders. We’ll be ready to move soon”

Setsuna nodded and walked toward the waiting vehicle, where the front passenger door opened and Motoyuki climbed out to open the back passenger side door for her.

As Genpaku turned to follow, Asuma caught his arm. “Make sure she _stays_ in the car until I say it’s safe,” he murmured.

Genpaku shrugged. “I’ll try, but don’t forget that _she’s_ the boss, not me. As always, she’ll do as she pleases.”

Asuma grimaced. “Well, do what you can.” Genpaku nodded before returning to the limo, and Asuma turned back to check on the unloading of the mini-tanks.


	36. Mind Games

Usagi nervously peeked around the corner of yet another corridor dimly lit by the emergency lights. Empty. She sagged slightly in relief, then stiffened as the sound of angry voices and property destruction echoing through the hallways grew louder — whoever was tearing the mansion apart was getting closer, and quickly. But it didn’t sound yet like they were between her and Kuno-dono’s suite, so if she hurried she should be all right. Maybe.

Stepping around the corner, she began to run down the hall, only to whip around and slam into a wall with a loud scream of panic as a hand whipped out of a dark doorway she passed by to grab her by the arm. For a moment she fought to escape from the hand’s grip until its owner stepped out into the hallway — her owner’s sister, Kodachi. Sucking in deep shuddering breaths, the younger pageboy-haired blonde sagged against the wall. “Kodachi, don’t _do_ that!” she wailed, then blushed — they weren’t in her master’s private suite at the moment. “Kodachi-sama, I mean,” she corrected herself, her voice subdued.

“I suspect proper protocol is the least of our worries at the moment,” Kodachi replied, her tight smile grim. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was with Kuno-dono when we heard about the mob, and he left but I didn’t want to be in a safe room alone, so I was going to join Ami in her safe room, but it took me so long to find my slave chain and then the lights went out and I had to go back but now I think I’m lost!” the terrified Usagi wailed, hyperventilating.

Kodachi gently shook the young slave. “Easy, stand up straight, take slow, even breaths,” she ordered. As Usagi straightened and slowed her breathing, the Kuno heir thoughtfully stared down the hallway in the direction Usagi had been running. “You weren’t lost,” she finally said, “but from what I heard coming this way you aren’t going to be able to get to your suite without running into the mob. And I don’t have time to escort you back, so it seems you are with me.”

Usagi nodded jerkily, as she fought to keep from sagging with relief — she was once again with someone that knew what she was doing. “O-Okay. Where are we going?”

“There’s an entrance to the sub-basement a few corridors back the way you came,” Kodachi replied, “stairs instead of an elevator, and a combination lock on the door with an independent power supply. That will get us down where the mob can’t find us.” She hesitated a moment, then added, “And Akane and Ranma should be down there in need of rescuing.”

“I knew Ranma was in trouble!” Usagi exclaimed. “Wait, Akane’s here, too?”

“Yes,” Kodachi said. She stepped back into the room she’d come out of, to emerge a moment later with a rhythmic gymnastics club in one hand and her ribbon in the other. Without stopping she strode down the hall back the way Usagi had come. “You’d already heard?”

Usagi hurried to catch up. “Kuno-dono said something about it. Is she ... in trouble?”

“She will be if we don’t hurry, but Ranma’s the one in real trouble right now. Keep up.” And with that, Kodachi broke into a trot.

/oOo\

In a cell now pitch black, Akane listened to the dull thud of her fist slamming into her cell’s wall — no, that wasn’t the door. She snarled as she unclenched her aching hand and shook it out as she stepped two steps to the left, trailing her other hand along the wall to maintain her distance and orientation. The door couldn’t be in the walls with the cot or toilet and sink, she doubted that it was in the wall at the head of the cot, so that left this one. She just wished that whoever had made the cell’s blueprints had included emergency lights. Not that they’d have helped her search, the door was invisible from the inside, but she would have felt better.

Akane flattened one hand against the wall, again clenched her fist, took a deep breath and focused her ki, and struck. “Owww...” But this time, there’d been a slight hollow sound to the strike, a faint vibration felt by the hand flat on the wall — she’d found the door!

Shaking out her hand again, she ran her fingers along the wall, feeling for a seam, and found ... something, maybe... Checked to the right, no new seam, to the left, there! Okay, she had an outline. She stepped back, took another deep breath, and screamed out her kick.

/oOo\

Usagi stepped off the spiral staircase and stood on tiptoes to peek over Kodachi’s shoulder. The hallway stretched ahead of them, doorways running along the right side wall visible in the emergency lights, with another door at the end — seeming brighter that the upstairs had been, the dim light reflecting from shiny steel panels making up the floor, ceiling and walls rather than the rare woods of the rest of the mansion. And no rioters, like the small group that they’d run into on their way to the stairs. The new Kuno heir had dealt with them handily, charging into a flurry of surprised people dropping and bouncing off walls before Usagi had even really noticed they were there, but the Juuban slave was glad that the upper entrance to the stairwell was hidden behind a false wall — they wouldn’t have to worry about the mob breaking their way through a door they didn’t know existed, and the Kuno retainers had more important things on their mind than checking out the sub-basement. “Kodachi-sama, where are we?” the young blonde whispered.

“As I said, the sub-basement,” Kodachi replied in a normal voice. “This is where we keep all the things — and people — we don’t want anyone else to know about. And you don’t need to worry about being heard, the doors are soundproofed. The room we want, where we perform our own rituals, is the door at the end.”

The offset ponytailed girl strode down the hall, and Usagi hurried to keep up, only to pause as a faint sound caught her attention, a dull thudding sound, repeated a few seconds later ... and then again. It seemed to be coming from the wall to her left, opposite the side with the doors. “Kodachi-sama!” she called out, “I think she’s over here!”

Kodachi turned around and looked back at the blonde. “She can’t be, not with what Hanh —” She broke off, face tightening for a moment, then nodded. “Akane, it has to be — that’s our cell for the _really_ dangerous people, the ones that need bank vaults to hold onto.” She hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “We could always use another fighter, and Ranma might need ...”

Leaving the thought unfinished, she hurried back to Usagi. She handed her club and ribbon to the slave and pressed her palm against a spot on the wall indistinguishable from any other. The steel panel in front of her sank back a few inches then slid to the side to reveal another corridor twenty yards long, ending in a door with a large wheel in its center. The volume of the thuds jumped, and the door quivered slightly. As Usagi gaped, Kodachi strode down the corridor to grab the wheel as the thuds stopped. For a moment nothing happened. Usagi hurried to join Kodachi, and the Kuno glanced over at her, an eyebrow up. “Incredible, she’s actually managed to jam the opening mechanism — hopefully, just slightly,” she explained, before turning back to the door and bracing herself. With an explosive grunt of effort the wheel began to turn, its spin increasing in speed with each revolution, and Kodachi motioned for Usagi to step back with one hand as the other kept the wheel spinning.

Then Kodachi was jumping back as the door exploded back on its hinges to slam against the wall, the clang mixing with Akane’s scream.

/\

Akane rocked back as yet again her kick slammed into the unyielding door. What was the thing _made_ of? The long minutes she’d been kicking at the increasingly hated obstacle were turning timeless, and even ki-reinforced her foot was a massive bundle of pure ache, the pain creeping up her leg and blossoming in her knee. She paused for a moment to step over to the sink, opening the spigot by feel in the lightless cell, and cupped her hands to sip relief for her raw throat. Throat soothed for the moment, she closed the spigot and again felt out the door’s location before she stepped back and with a deep breath shrieked her anger as another kick hammered at the door.

The door slammed back to clang into the outside wall, and Akane staggered back with hands raised as the light in the corridor seared into her dark-adjusted eyes. “Akane!” she heard a familiar voice shout, and arms circled her to pull her into a hug.

“Usagi?!” the youngest Tendo gasped as one arm went around the young slave to brace herself when Usagi actually managed to spin them around. Her other hand scrubbed at her eyes. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“Rescuing Ranma, actually,” came a cool, faintly amused voice before Usagi could respond, also familiar if not so happily. “We happened to come across you in the process and thought your presence would be beneficial when we reach him.”

“Ranma!” Akane abruptly braced herself to stop her and Usagi’s spinning in place to fix her frantic gaze on the Kuno heir. “Kodachi, where is he?”

“Just down the hall, follow me,” Kodachi ordered, and turned to stride back down the hall.

Akane quickly disentangled herself from Usagi and started forward only to pause for a moment, eyes widening as the thickness of the door she’d been kicking registered — no wonder she hadn’t gotten anywhere trying to break out!

Shaking herself back to reality, she ran to join Kodachi, Usagi right behind her, as the raven-haired girl turned one of the corners of the T-intersection at the end of the hall. “What’s going on, why does Ranma need rescuing? _How_ does Ranma need rescuing?” she demanded when she caught up.

“Even the strongest need to breath, and I have had Ranma helpless at my mercy before,” Kodachi replied shortly as they approached another door at the end of the new hallway, Usagi coming up behind them. “But more explanations will have to wait.” She stopped in front of the door, tossed her club across to catch it with the hand already holding her ribbon, and laid the now empty hand flat on a blank spot on the wall to the side. A panel popped open, and Kodachi hastily typed at the number pad now revealed. “Locked like I thought, but not now,” she said as she pressed her palm on another blank spot across the door from the number pad.

The door slid to the side into the wall, and Kodachi was bowled over by a rush of screaming women from out of the room beyond.

/oOo\

Only the fact that it would be a distraction kept the Mentalist from indulging in a profane rant as he once again found himself spinning through the void of Ranma’s inner mindscape. Concentration was already difficult enough, with the scenes of strangely disjointed memories flashing through his mind as his self-image pinwheeled through the points and balls of light making up the lattice of the young man’s life, no need to make it even harder. _This is_ not _working,_ he thought grimly as he brought his tumbling progress to a halt and turned to face the grinning young man.

“An’ here I thought this’d be a challenge,” Ranma taunted, smirking from where he bobbed back in the midst of the lattice of lights. “I sure hope Pyo-baka didn’t pay ya in advance, or he’s gonna take it back outta yer hide. On second thought, I _hope_ he paid ya already. Maybe I’ll even hold back long enough ta give ya to him once we’re done here.”

The Mentalist fought to keep his anger under control as he watched Ranma drift back through several ribbons of light — here as in the Martial Arts, losing control meant losing, period. That hadn’t been a problem since his early days as a mercenary, but this wasn’t his usual kind of fight — what did he know of the ebb and flow of brute physical combat? He tried once again to impose his will on the mindscape, to dissolve it into the more typical indescribable mix and flow of memories and sensations for him to shape as he wished. For a moment everything seemed to shiver and blur only to snap back into focus a moment later, and he snarled — the few solid blows he’d managed to land during however long it had been since he’d so stupidly started the fight hadn’t weakened the boy’s mental control at all! If anything, he was growing stronger, the fuzziness of his image solidifying and the red streaks and highlights in his hair fading to the same black as the rest.

The same couldn’t be said for the Mentalist, not with the way that the younger man seemed able to land blows at will hard enough to shake him to the core. And the stimulation Ranma _had_ to be feeling from the Mentalist’s servants didn’t seem to be having any effect at all. _And here I thought the two hours Ranma’s original Adjustment took just meant the Shogun’s lapdogs were losing what little competence they’d had to start with._ He was seriously reconsidering his decision not to tell his target what was happening in the real world, to win on pure power and skill. At first, he’d held back out of overconfidence; now, he held back out of fear. Certainly, if the story made Ranma lose control of himself it would all be over but the clean-up, but if instead the young man focused that anger on him like a laser it would also all be over — and not in a good way. Though at least he’d survive it. Probably.

Ranma’s smirk broadened as he drifted to one side and upward, forcing the Mentalist to turn in place. The smirk turned into a laugh when the nondescript mental powerhouse overcompensated and had to desperately pull himself back. “Yeah, you’re good, all right,” Ranma jibed.

The Mentalist blinked, ignoring the taunt — for the briefest moment, the sleekly-muscled impressively hung raven-haired boy had been replaced by the curvy-cute redhead that he’d examined on the table just before beginning his mind-dive. But why ... ? The Mentalist focused on the large ball of light that had emerged from one breast of the redhead just before she reverted to male form. As best he’d been able to determine from Ranma’s size in the memories the Mentalist had passed through, the larger the size of the ball of light the more recent the memory it marked — and this one was as large as he’d seen, it must be practically brand new. So what about that memory had momentarily shifted Ranma’s self image so radically?

Fighting to keep the flash of hope off his face just as he had his growing frustration, the Mentalist started drifting up and to the side, twisting as he went to keep himself facing the completely untrained powerhouse that was making him look like a bumbling fool. _At least there aren’t any spectators...._ Ranma circled with him, not just turning in place but maneuvering to rise above his attacker — not that it mattered, in a mindscape without top or bottom, where ‘down’ was whichever way your feet were pointed. But the instincts ingrained from his long years of training in his aerial Art held true even here. _Perfect,_ the Mentalist thought as he slowed to a stop dead center on the ball of light that had triggered Ranma’s brief change.

/\

_Ranma rose to her feet, stepped over in front of the full-length mirror, spread her legs slightly, and carefully looked herself over. Bright red hair, both that falling down about her shoulders and framing her own slave chain and the patch where her legs joined, outsized but firm mounds on her chest ... and just below her trimmed patch of soft pubic hair ... Reaching up with one hand to cup a breast, gently running a finger across a nipple, she shivered as the fingers of her other hand traced a path between her again-dampening cleft._

_A soft moan escaped, and she closed her eyes for a moment, until the final image of her dream flashed into her mind, Akane lying on Kuno’s bed beside her, smiling happily at one of her lovers, wishing ‘Ranko’ a happy birthday._ Yeah, right, like _that_ ’ll ever happen, she hates his guts. Can’t blame her, either — she had ta _cut off her pop’s head_ ‘cause a’ him! Sure, he’s a loon, he didn’t really know what he was doing, but still _..._ _Stepping back, the redhead squared her shoulders._ I’m not Ranko. I’m Saotome Ranma, lover of Tendo Akane and the Powers willing will be her husband and father of her kid, son of Genma and Nodoka, heir of the Saotome school of the Anything Goes style of martial arts.

/\

The Mentalist blinked again as he shifted off the ball of light, the memory it represented vanishing from thought. Ranma had actually been tempted to stay as he — she — was now?! What had brought _that_ on? She’d thought something about a dream ... ? He glanced around at the ribbons of light undulating away from the glowing sphere, searching for the one that ... yes, _that_ one seemed to be the largest of the connected nodes that wasn’t actually larger still. Focusing back on Ranma just in time to twist out of the way of a diving rush, he kicked out and for once actually managed a glancing blow, sending the pigtailed young man spinning to the side. Eyes widening in shock at his success, he smirked at the recovering (and equally shocked) Ranma as he moved back alongside the ribbon toward the new node.

/\

_As Ranma once again began to shriek out her building pleasure, the lover still gripping her hand once again leaned down to recapture her bouncing nipple as for long minutes Ranma’s world narrowed to the sensations washing through her. Then the redhead’s back arched as the building pressure broke and wave after wave of her orgasm ripped through her. Her spasming pussy clamped down on her master’s pistoning cock, and he shouted as it swelled and flooded her depths to overflowing with his seed._

_Ranma slumped back onto the bed as her muscles finally relaxed, aftershocks echoing through her limp body, and the mouth on her breast again let go as her lover lay down next to her. Turning her head, Ranma blinked sweat out of her eyes and focused to find herself staring at Akane’s smiling face, loving happiness shining from her eyes, a Kuno slave-chain around her neck. “Happy birthday, Ranko,” Akane whispered._

/\

The Mentalist jerked away from the memory node, fighting a furious blush. It wasn’t close to being the first time he’d experienced someone else’s memories of sex — or dream, rather, the scene had definitely had that slightly hazy, unreal quality of a fantasy. It wasn’t even the first time he’d experienced sex through a woman’s viewpoint (a nice change of pace, on occasion). But the sheer ... joy? ... relief? ... that had suffused the scene had been breathtaking, and intensely personal.

 _Okay, so she really_ was _tempted to remain a girl, but the dream didn’t go into_ why _. So let’s do some more digging,_ He began backing off alongside a random ribbon radiating away from the dream node to earlier memories — and not so incidentally, away from the mindscape’s master.

/\

_‘Ranko’ and another blonde slave looking after a soul-weary Kuno-dono the night after the captured otokodate slavers were executed._

_A concerned Kuno-dono first allowing her to meet the demands of honor by watching those executions, then sending a heartsick ‘Ranko’ home when the executions of the otokodate she’d helped capture were finished while he stayed to watch the rest._

_Kuno-dono even more reluctantly allowing ‘Ranko’ to risk rape going undercover to protect the kidnapped girls from their enslavers when the lording law enforcement stormed the otokodate’s transshipment point._

_The first night Kuno-dono had taken his new slave to bed, and the gentleness he’d shown a girl he’d thought had been abused by a previous master._

_‘Ranko’s’ first meeting with the blonde slave, and the redhead’s shock at the loyalty Kuno-dono had engendered in the younger (and sexually frustrated) girl._

/\

“What’re ya tryin’ ta do, find out if this place has any limits?”

The Mentalist jerked slightly at the question as he moved away from the last memory’s node. Shocked at how much he’d gotten caught up in the cascade of events he’d been reviewing, he refocused on a now faintly amused pigtailed boy. “No, just taking a ride down the path of your memories,” he replied with a sigh. He slowly drifted slightly higher, just enough to hint at dominance without posing a threat, before taking a deep breath. Time to roll the dice. “Tell me, Ranma, why are you fighting this so hard? It’s what you want, after all.”

“What I want? What’re ya talkin’ about?” Ranma asked, his amusement fading into confusion.

The Mentalist stared, flabbergasted, then barked laughter. “ _Of course_ you don’t know, I just came in here and started throwing my weight around — or trying to, anyway,” he replied, shaking his head. “I really have gotten arrogant over the years, haven’t I?” Sobering, he continued, “I’m the Mentalist, and I was hired by the Master of Servants to ... ah ... reprogram you — make you in truth what Kuno-dono believes you to be.”

Ranma froze, gaping. “You can _do_ that?” he demanded.

The Mentalist shrugged. “Easily. Well, _usually_ easily. You’ve proven to be more of a challenge than I expected, or even hoped for.” He watched intently as the pigtailed boy absorbed his words — not a hint of a smirk, or anything else to show that the ego his file had indicated was taking the bait. Not a good sign.

Ranma drifted up and to the side, toward the Mentalist’s left side, incidentally negating whatever height advantage the mind-sifter had. Probably unconsciously, considering how focused he was on his opponent. “What d’ya mean, what I want? Ya think I wanna become some sappy girly-type that worships the ground Kuno walks on?”

“No, but then, that’s not what Kuno-dono thinks you are, is it?” the Mentalist replied. “He thinks you’re a strong, vibrant woman and a skilled warrior that worships the ground he walks on.” Watching Ranma closely, he suppressed a sigh. As expected, the rebuttal hadn’t seemed to make the pigtailed boy any more accommodating. Nonchalantly, he added, “That’s what Akane is now, if you don’t go along you’re going to be left behind.”

“What?! You ... you ...”

“Already did an extreme Adjustment? Yes,” the Mentalist said, smirking. “Kuno-dono ordered her picked up this afternoon, and the Master of Servants decided to get the easy one out of the way first. I have to say she didn’t put up anywhere near the fight you have. She’s upstairs eagerly waiting for you and her master — her two lovers — now, you’re going to have a fight on your hands if you try to take her away from her ‘Tate-sama’.”

“We ... we can do that... Now that Kuno’s broken our agreement I can get her out, take care of him, we can fix her —”

The Mentalist shook his head, turning serious. “You don’t really want to do that — you have too much ... not ‘liking’, that’s a stretch even now ... _respect_ for Kuno-dono to want to kill him. Besides, even if you do, you aren’t going to find anyone like me to change Akane’s mental state. And there is no ‘we’. Pyo-san ordered a strike on your people when Kuno-dono gave him the order to bring in Akane. You’d be all alone, on the run with Akane fighting you all the way. And if you kill her ‘Tate-sama’ she will never forgive you.”

“An’ d’ya r-r-really think Kuno’s thugs can h-handle the like a’ Ukyo or Cologne?”

 _Finally, something’s shaking him up ... just a little more...._ “For Ukyo, Konatsu and the Amazons, it’s already done,” the Mentalist replied, shrugging. “Perhaps none of Kuno-dono’s people are a match for them in direct combat, but a prepared ambush with large amounts of high explosive can balance that out nicely. I don’t imagine the Tendo dojo will fare much better.” He hid a smile as Ranma began to shake — now they were getting somewhere. _Any time now...._

And Ranma was in motion, flashing across the space between them, legs circling his enemy, one arm around his throat. The Mentalist ignored the blows hammering into his back where a kidney would be if a mental avatar had any, ignored the way the blows shook him, forced himself to focus ... wait for it ... and when the void around them seemed to shiver he struck at its foundations. The feel of the blows, the arm and legs holding him, all vanished as the world abruptly dissolved into a riot of sensations and memories. _Yes! My turn!_

/\

Ranma gasped as suddenly the light-latticed world vanished, all sight gone, all sense of his physical body gone as he found himself lost in a sea of sights, sounds, sensations of memories swirling about and through him.

“ _Yes! My turn!_ he ... heard? felt? sensed? ... the Mentalist exult. The other man’s presence was ... indeterminate, at once nowhere and everywhere, permeating the deepest recesses of Ranma’s being. And already the Saotome heir could feel the intruder playing with his mind, his very core, like a million little fingers plucking, pinching, twisting, pulling, stroking, flickers of pleasure flashing through him....

His burning anger snuffed out by the panic flashing through him, Ranma desperately tried to force them back into the latticed void they’d floated in a moment earlier. but other than a faint ... ripple? quiver? ... that passed through the chaos they were immersed in, the only reaction was a faint ‘chuckle’ from his tormentor. _“Nice try, kid, but now we’re playing_ my _game, by_ my _rules.”_

Ranma tried to block out the torrent of disjointed memories, and when that proved impossible, to ignore them as he fought to beat back his panic and recover his equilibrium. He was almost there in spite of the continuing sensation of fingers playing with him, when suddenly the building flashes of pleasure exploded and for a moment his world went white, his concentration shattered and washed away in the flood of orgasmic bliss.

The faint chuckle was back even as he again found himself inundated in the ebb and flow of his lifetime of memories. _“Enjoyed that, I hope? You’ll have to thank my servants after we’re done for their help. By then, it’ll even be sincere. You have any less than pleasant memories you’d like me to get rid of while I’m at it? I won’t even charge you for the service, I’ll consider myself well paid by the workout you’ve given me — the best I’ve had in years.”_

Ignoring the taunts even as he fought to suppress his fear again rising alongside the rising tide of pleasure, he felt the Mentalist seeming to slip and twist through the currents flinging him to and fro like a streamlined shape in storm-driven seas — no, a _school_ of streamlined shapes, darting every which way. _How does he_ do _that?_ Ranma wondered for a moment before putting it to the side for later. He was doing it, calming, focusing — and _again_ the pleasure peaked and exploded, leaving him mentally gasping, thoughts fractured and disjointed.

 _Damn it, this isn’t working!_ the pigtailed boy thought. The Mentalist wasn’t just playing, Ranma felt ... out of shape, twisted, like bits and pieces of his very being didn’t match up, round pegs in square holes.... _Think, Ranma, think! Maybe ya can chase the servants off with yer ki? Flare yer battle aura to make ‘em back off?_ He reached for the life energy that permeated him, a lifetime’s effort building the reserves that he had barely touched during her long days of inactivity ... nothing. He knew the reserve was there, he could almost grasp it, but it felt slippery, oily, oozing away.

 _Okay, that didn’t work. So what now, none a’ yer techniques are any good here, but —_ His frantic thoughts stuttered to a halt ... there _was_ one technique that might help!

Again, Ranma tried to ignore the chaos, letting the currents of memories wash through and around him, riding the rising pleasure building to another peak as he focused on Ice: snow-covered mountain vistas, the depths of pure-black night filled with down-drifting, wind-driven waves of snowfall, trees bent low with the weight of uncountable shining-white daggers, rivers turned into plains of clear ice, waterfalls frozen masses of rough undulating walls and pillars. Everything seemed to fade; the memories became meaningless; another burst of finger-driven pleasure was distant, second hand, vanishing altogether. Even the feel of the Mentalist’s manipulations twisting through him felt washed out as he reached for the memory of a sun- and star-studded, light-ribboned void within an infinite rough-hewn wall.

/\

If the Mentalist had a body — or rather, if he was currently _using_ his body, or even aware of it — he’d have been stretched out on the ground, gasping for oxygen, and hoping that the water he’d just drank for rehydration _stayed_ down. He owed the government lapdog that had handled Ranma’s Adjustment an apology; even with Ranma’s mindscape returned to its natural form, the young man’s natural resistance was so strong that the report’s description of the original Adjustments as ‘shaky’ and ‘temporary at best’ were perfectly understandable. Not that the Adjuster would have been able to replicate what the Mentalist had just accomplished even if he’d had the Wild Talent’s raw power — eliminate a single recent memory, no problem; create a wall between attitudes and preferences and the conscious mind, not much harder. But actually _molding_ those attitudes and earlier memories to build a new presence was a much more vast issue — attitudes weren’t limited to single memories, and earlier memories would have a cascade of links that widened at time passed, and it quickly became impossible for a single, discrete individual to hunt down and change all the links needed for modification of any but the most recent of memories or attitudes.

However, the key was the word ‘discrete’, and as he rested the Mentalist idly wondered how many Wild Talents had had the same brainstorm he had of changing his self-image from that of an individual intruder swimming through the mixing currents of memories, sensations, beliefs and attitudes to that of an all-encompassing presence that permeated the entire mindscape and could sense and modify the whole. _Though it’s a good thing Ranma’s as smart as he is, or his sheer mental strength would make this impossible — it certainly helps things when your target’s own imagination does half the work of providing plausible explanations for attitude adjustments._

 _Okay, step one finished,_ the Mentalist thought, finally deciding he’d rested long enough. _Good thing I caught that dream, it certainly helped me decide just what change to make. Kuno would thank me if he ever knew,_ he continued with a ‘smirk’, _otherwise he’d end up worn to a nub. I just hope that dream helps with the second step._

He was just rousing himself, gathering his strength for the next assault, when suddenly the ebb and flow of the mindscape seemed to slow, harden, he ‘shivered’ as the nonexistent temperature seemed to drop — and the entire mindscape shivered, wavered, and he ‘gasped’ as he felt himself abruptly shrink and coalesce as the sun- and star-studded, light-latticed midnight void from before swam into existence around him. “What the fuck!” he shouted, lapsing into profanity he normally abhorred as a sign of a lack of self control.

“Well, what d’ya know, it worked.”

The strange voice came from behind him, and the Mentalist spun in place to stare at the naked figure his turn revealed. Gone was the moderately built, handsome, raven-haired, masculine young man of before. In his place was a slimmer, tinier, auburn-haired figure — muscle tone was impossible to determine because the figure was blurred, out of focus somehow, but it seemed androgynous except for a pair of small breasts. The Mentalist didn’t dare to drop his attention, but through his shock he distantly wondered whether if he did he’d find Ranma’s new self image made manifest was hermaphroditic. It seemed his first step hadn’t taken as well as he’d thought. If it had, he’d have been looking at a tiny, cute ... and sharply focused ... redhead.

“H-H-How ... ?” he stammered, gaping.

Ranma chuckled humorlessly. “Just a technique that turns out ta be useful here,” she replied, her voice pitched midway between that of her male and female forms. Then before the Mentalist could gather his scattered wits she was in motion, flashing across the distance between them. Within moments she was behind him, her arms wrapped up under his arms and across his shoulders to clasp her hands behind his neck, her legs wrapped around his hips. No, from the feel of her groin pressed against his back she wasn’t a hermaphrodite.

The Mentalist bucked, trying to break the hold, but Ranma just chuckled again as the two started to drift quickly backward. “Ya like ta play with memories? Let me show ya one,” she breathed in his ear. The Mentalist stopped twisting and tried to halt the drift, but while the two slowed they still continued back, passing through undulating glowing ribbons and flashes of memories at the intersections — a montage of events, some that the Mentalist recognized from the file he’d read, like the face-off against a winged, robed semi-human, fireball-throwing self-proclaimed godling, but most completely new to him such as Akane diving into a twister to grab some kind of chart.

Finally, they reached another unfamiliar scene literally soaked in fear, what felt like Ranma’s male form lying frozen in terror on his back on a lawn by a house, a housecat sitting on his chest and looking down at him. “G-G-Good, now let’s see, which thread f-from here is longest...” the Mentalist heard the girl stutter to herself through the overwhelming terror smashing through him. Then they were in motion again, the nodes of the lattice passing them getting smaller, shrinking to pinpoints.

Even as the Mentalist was shaking off the emotional onslaught of the previous scene they came to a stop. “Yeah, th-this one’s it,” Ranma said, shuddering against his back. “Okay, mind raper, rape _this_!” The pair shifted slightly, and the Mentalist suddenly found himself in a new memory.

_He was a struggling young boy, ignoring the fish cakes tied around his arms and leg, chest and head, the pain from the scratches and bites that covered his entire body as he tried desperately to escape his father’s grip on the back of his gi. The bulky martial artist ignored his son’s efforts as he opened the wooden trap door over a pit, the sound of housecats yowling with hunger growing louder as the light now shining into the pit reflected from uncountable pairs of slitted eyes looking up. “I don’t wanna, Daddy, it hurts!” the boy protested, and the Mentalist felt the little body shaking, mind filled with overwhelming fear._

“ _A martial artist’s way is fraught with peril,” Genma said dismissively. “If you’d just learn the technique, I wouldn’t have to keep doing this. Now get in there, boy.”_

 _Before he could protest again Genma dropped him through the trap door and the boy was screaming as he fell toward hungry eyes waiting for him. The eyes vanished with the light as the door slammed closed above him, and then feline screeches of pain joined the hungry yowls as the wailing boy slammed down onto the carpet of furry bodies. Even as he felt the bodies underneath him trying to struggle their way free, a wave of furry monsters rolled over him, biting, clawing, he fought to his feet, to get away, but they wouldn’t_ get off _and he staggered as he tried to shake them free and stepped on another tiny furry demon and it_ crunched _underfoot and he was falling and landed on more writhing bodies and more were climbing their way onto him, covering him under a living carpet of clawing, biting fur and something deep inside him snapped and he_ screamed....

/\

In the wood-paneled room, the Mentalist’s servants standing around the padded table exchanged uneasy glances — their employer, standing at the head of the table with his fingertips at the red-haired girl’s temples, was taking longer than usual. Much longer. Still, in spite of their growing anxiety their hands continued to roam across the naked body of the tiny semi-conscious girl, and her body jerked as yet another orgasm rippled through her. They paused and all except the woman holding the anesthesia mask over the girl’s mouth and nose grasped arms and legs to hold her in place until the orgasmic shudders stilled, then resumed their stimulation.

Suddenly the body under their hands seemed to grow cool. The startled women stepped back, leaving the Mentalist alone alongside the redhead, the faintly hissing anesthesia mask falling to the floor as they stared wide-eyed at the frost radiating out from underneath the girl, covering the padded surface, running down the table legs. After a moment when nothing more happened they exchanged glances. Finally, one of the women started to say, “Tokiwa, should we —”

The Mentalist jerked his hands away from Ranma’s head, staggering away from the table as he _screamed_ like a soul in torment. His servants stared at the staggering man tearing at his hair as shriek after shriek ripped from his throat, before motion back at the table caught their attention and they turned, wide-eyed at the sight of the naked redhead sitting up on the padded table top. Her hot eyes glared at them, then even as they stepped further back at the rage boiling in those eyes she turned to focus on the Mentalist.

He was still staggering drunkenly, blood running down the side of his head from where he’d yanked out a chunk of hair. But his gaze had focused on the nude girl and he whined fearfully as he tried to back up.

Ranma slid off the table, dropping to one knee when her legs refused to support her. Bracing herself on the frost-covered padded top, she pushed herself to her feet, took a deep breath and thrust herself forward two staggering steps before she leaped, slamming into her tormentor and wrapping her legs around his waist. He tottered under the impact, tried to push her away, but she knocked his desperately clutching hands aside, reached up to grab his jaw and the back of his head and _twisted_.

The wet crack of the Mentalist’s neck breaking shocked his servants out of their stunned paralysis, and as the redhead rode the collapsing body down to the floor they turned as one and ran shrieking for the door.


	37. The situation is officially fubar.

Okana Taisho crouched in a doorway, listening to the occasional short comment from the scouts he’d sent to check the Kuno estate grounds and waiting for their final word on the situation, hoping that the helicopter he’d seen was still focused on the government building and auction center.

It had been a quick run through Nerima’s streets to their final jump-off points, and in some ways a disturbing one; it had certainly cemented how unusual this ‘riot’ was. It wasn’t the first he’d seen by a long shot, if not this up close and personal, and all the previous ones had included massive damage and looting of neighborhood businesses as the violence spilled out beyond their ostensible targets; not only was there no such spillage this time, but the only people he’d seen on the streets during their rush had the air of patrolmen in spite of their civilian clothing. He suspected they’d been tasked with making sure that the ‘rioters’ or any copycats didn’t get out of hand.

The whole situation was seriously bothering Taisho, it just didn’t fit any of the patterns he knew. There were far too many ‘rioters’ to be the usual precision strike his own team and the others that had joined it for this operation provided for whichever noble family was currently paying them. From the scouts’ reports and what visuals they were able to supply, it was equally clear that they weren’t thinly disguised soldiers from a noble’s private army — most of the ‘rioters’ were obvious commoners, and those that were fighters were just as obviously martial artists such as the lording was famous for, almost certainly locals. They couldn’t be working for one of the noble families, and not just because of what it would take to bribe and/or blackmail that many people — there was no way to disguise the planned nature of the ‘riots’ from anyone paying close attention, and Taisho couldn’t imagine a bribe large enough to convince even a shogun as corrupt as the current one to ignore using the masses of the common people as pawns in the Shadow War in any capacity other than spies, informers and hackers. But if this was a homegrown uprising, he also couldn’t imagine what they hoped to accomplish. It wasn’t as if the Shogun would allow them to murder their lord and install one of their own choosing —

He twitched slightly from his comlink earpiece’s faint crackling as it came to life with the voice of the scout that had reported earlier. _“Sasaki, here. Boss, my earlier report is confirmed, it looks like all the automated defenses are down inside the estate, not just along the walls. And the tail end of the mob is still pouring into the mansion, so I suspect what security there is has its attention pretty firmly fixed. We should be good to go.”_

“Acknowledged,” Taisho responded, and switched to the all-units channel. “All teams, go, go, go!” He waited for a long moment for the first of his personal team to get up and move forward, then joined in the rush out of their cover down the last half-block to the walls. Ahead of him, more ladders slammed against the wall beside the few the scouts had used — ordinary ones such as would be found at any construction site or farm rather than the light weight collapsible ones they would have typically used, more figleaf camouflage for their strike. The first of his force’s main body swarmed up the ladders and dropped down into the mansion grounds; then the second wave, carrying more ladders with them so they could get out as easily as they’d gotten in. Then it was his turn.

/\

Izumi Noa swept her rifle’s night vision scope along the stretch of wall that the street samurai were coming over, as her stomach turned to lead. It looked like there were as many within the estate grounds as her team could handle, assuming that the latest attackers weren’t suicidally determined to get into the mansion proper. Shifting back to her own assigned bit of estate lawn, she took a deep breath, picked her first target, and said into her comlink, “Full team, go, go, go!” before she gently squeezed the trigger. The night vision scope blacked to protect her night sight from her rifle’s strobing muzzle flash as her shot joined the first volley, then cleared to show her target dropping to the ground — limply, not the controlled drop his teammates would be using all around him; the shot had definitely gone home.

Not waiting to see if her first target was still moving, Noa ignored the numb feeling spreading through her soul as she swept to the left, acquired another target already flat on the ground and bringing his rifle to bear. She again gently squeezed the trigger as the first of the return fire cracked past her head. Time to shift position.

/\

Chae Kun Su bit her lip as she stared down from the roof of a nearby apartment building at the large strike force crossing the Kuno estate walls. She _really_ wished Ma-zhi had survived Xian Pu’s attack on what was left of the strike force against the Tendo compound — his immediate subordinate had been part of the actual attack, and hadn’t made it back out of the abattoir the compound had turned into. In fact, she was the senior ninja left, assigned to one of the blocking forces, but her seniority was relative and until tonight any authority her minor ranking gave her had been purely theoretical. That hadn’t been a problem, since her first hasty order had been obvious and happily accepted: “Return to the mansion as quickly as possible!” But then all contact with the mansion had been lost, they’d arrived to find a mob crossing the wall without hindrance from the automated defenses and presumably charging the mansion, and when she’d ordered everyone to shift to the left so that they could go around the mob and join the defense of the mansion they’d found more invaders ... these ones armed with the modern weapons her own people lacked, and almost certainly trained in their use. And now she didn’t know what to do!

As she was dithering between taking this group of invaders in the rear or going around them in another attempt to get into the mansion, in growing panic with a good half of the invaders over the wall, gunshots echoed out from inside the estate — _distant_ shots, accompanied by surprised shouts and much closer shots. _That_ has _to be return fire, someone’s engaged the ones inside!_ Kun Su thought, stiffening in momentary shock at the presence of Security that _simply_ _couldn’t be there_ before shaking it off and straightening. It didn’t matter who the unknown defenders were, and relief swept through her as she realized that her own decision tree had just narrowed to a single point.

“Everyone, prepare to engage!” she ordered over the Tendo strike com network. “This side of the wall, only — leave the ones already over the wall to whoever’s protecting the estate. On my word ... go!”

Even as she spoke, she flipped over the edge of her roof, landed crouched on a balcony railing that thankfully proved strong enough to bear her weight, dropped from there to the ground, and rushed to join the silent tide sweeping toward the half of the invaders still on the her side of the wall.

/\

Taisho instinctively threw himself flat on the lawn as the first shots flashed red all along the peaks of the roofs facing his strike force — an ambush! Six feet to his left, one of his flankers grunted explosively as a vague mist sprayed from his back, before dropping to the ground with an all too familiar limp finality. Taisho ignored the corpse to chamber a round in his rifle and scan along the border between the darker roof peak and slightly less dark nighttime sky, searching for a target (and absentmindedly cursing the lack of night vision scopes, but rioting — or even rebelling — commoners wouldn’t have them so his people couldn’t, either). His mind was racing through the ramifications of the abruptly shifted circumstances. An ambush just didn’t make sense — with the other ‘rioters’ flooding into the mansion, whoever was engaging his people should have engaged the first ones crossing the wall, to keep as many on the other side of the wall as possible.

_Unless they have enough to do some serious damage with a large enough target, but not enough to cover the entire perimeter,_ he thought, giving up looking for a specific target to scan along the entire roof, taking a rough estimate of the number of muzzle flashes. His stomach sank at the result—not enough to keep his people out of the mansion if they rushed it, but enough to do serious damage and likely produce more corpses than could be sanitized in the time available. This mission was officially snafued, time to call it a day. He silently thanked the Americans for their whimsical contributions to battle slang as he sighed and again toggled the all-units channel. “All units inside the wall, mission is scrubbed. Scouts, cover fire, pull back behind us. Everyone else, sanitize the dead, bring the wounded and all communications equipment, let’s get out of here.”

He rolled over to his left flanker’s body, felt around for the helmet, and was just rising to his feet when a shout erupted over his comlink. _“What the hell! Behind us! Behind — !”_ The shout broke off with a harsh scream, abruptly cut off, and Taisho whirled to race toward the wall they’d just come over. Someone was attacking his people from behind! He switched to his private channel with his second in command. “Yuji, re—” A massive blow between his shoulder blades smashed him off his feet. This time he never felt the lawn he slammed down onto.

/\

Dan Yuji ignored the confusion surrounding where he stood with his back to the Kuno estate wall as he listened to his comlink ... nothing. “Boss, you there?” he asked over the two’s private channel. There was no response. There wasn’t going to be a response — dead or badly wounded (and if wounded, crucified once the lord’s people found him — just one more nameless, and deniable, ronin) made no difference, his old friend wasn’t going to be coming back over the wall. Yuji felt tears prickle at the corners of his eyes, and angrily wiped them away. _Mourn later. You’re in charge now, you have to get our people out of here._

He looked around at the furball of street samurai and ninjas around him. The ninjas’ initial rush had been an almost complete surprise, with only a few brought down by scattered shots from the assigned rearguard, and now they and his own people were mixed together in a chaotic tangle of swearing, shouting, screaming shapes so intermingled in the night’s shadows that you might not know if the man you’d just killed was friend or foe until you turned over the body — if you had time and freedom to check. His own flankers, a young married pair, were doing a magnificent job of keeping the new players away from him, but it wouldn’t last. Not that time was an issue — not only was there no way they were getting into the mansion, they wouldn’t be able to sanitize the bodies. No, though no one would be able to identify which of the Kuno Family’s numerous enemies and rivals had ordered the strike, that _one_ of them had done so would be clear. For a moment he wondered just what effect that would have on the Shadow War before shaking off the distraction and toggling the all-units channel. “All units, this is Dan Yuji. Okana-san is down and I am assuming command. Forget sanitation, break off, scatter, evade and exfiltrate.”

Duty done, he drew his knife and pistol and stepped forward to join his flankers. “Yuuta, Juri, head out, try and break free. I’m going to look for the boss.”

The two exchanged glances and shrugs before the husband said, “Lead the way, we’re right behind you.” Juri nodded her agreement as she kept her eyes on the scrum around them, already shedding members as the street samurai on the edges broke away.

Yuji stuttered for a moment, before shrugging himself. They’d ceased to be under his command as soon as he’d given his order, he didn’t have the time to talk them out of it, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t made the same decision. “Let’s go, then.”

/oOo\

Crouching by the Kuno estate wall, Kun Su was dithering again. The fighting had actually been a relief, a moment of purity in a night marked by the morally shaky mission targeting the Tendos in the beginning and the confusion afterwards (for her, at least — _someone_ obviously knew what he was doing). But the fight had turned out to be as brief as it had been brutal — no surrender asked for, but over quickly with the ronin scum scurrying for their holes. And now that it was over, she _still_ couldn’t reach anyone inside the mansion on her comlink, and she was faced with the question of whether she should order her own people over the wall in the face of armed defenders she couldn’t talk to and that she suspected were not retainers of the Family. _Remember what Taguchi-sensei said: better an imperfect decision_ now _than a perfect decision later._ But what had seemed simple in theory was proving incredibly difficult in practice. It was different when real lives were at stake.

Finally taking a deep breath, she glanced about at her gathered team leaders sitting on their heels in a half-circle around her. (She would have rather left them with their teams, but she was far enough down the leadership rankings that she didn’t have access to a channel dedicated to the leaders alone.) “All right,” she started, “The ronin have fled and we’ve seen to our wounded, but contact with the mansion is still down so we have no way of alerting its defenders of who we are. Nerang, your team will stay to help the walking wounded watch over the more seriously injured. The rest of us will move around to the north entrance and —”

Kun Su broke off as a new sound became audible — the deep growl of heavy engines, growing louder every second, punctuated by the occasional crunch of metal on metal. Someone else was joining the party. “Back to your teams,” she ordered as she rose to her feet. The other team leaders scattered, and she strode forward, crossing the street with the ambulatory survivors of her own team falling into place around her until they reached the nearest corner. They stared down the street as the roar grew louder, and the distant shapes of mini-tanks appeared out of the darkness, three across, the two flankers actually knocking aside the few cars parked along the street. Kun Su thought frantically, the hollow in her gut growing as she tried and failed to come up with some way — _any_ way — that the primitively armed forces at her disposal could slow down the new enemy. _If they are a new enemy, that is. Those tanks look a lot like those of the Shogun’s heavy law enforcement unit assigned to Edo._

And then it became a moot point when the advancing tanks stopped. For long minutes they simply sat there as she felt her tension ratchet higher and higher. _Well, we can’t just stand around all night,_ she finally thought. “Wait here, I’m going to go see what they want,” she ordered the rest of her team. She strode past them and down the street toward the newcomers. Kun Su found herself fighting to keep from shaking. The main guns of the mini-tanks might have seemed laughable compared to those of their larger cousins, but it was still big enough to turn a car’s engine into so much twisted scrap metal. Thinking of what it would do to _her_ was making her sick, and she was staring right down the barrel of the middle mini-tank.

As she approached, that mini-tank pulled forward to meet her, leaving its flankers behind. It stopped when she came within several body lengths, and a few moments later a hatch atop the cupola opened and a young man in the white shirt, dark blue pants and yellow combat vest and helmet of the Shogun’s law enforcement security division levered himself up out of his vehicle and climbed down the front to join her. At the sight of the uniform Kun Su went light-headed with relief, staggering as her knees went wobbly. The tank driver caught her arm to steady her. “Patrolman Anzai Masuhiro,” he introduced himself. “It seems we’re a little late to the party.”

“Chae Kun Su, retainer of the Kuno Family,” Kun Su responded. “As happy as I am to see you, I’m a little surprised to find the Shogun’s people already here. I would have expected you to take much longer, considering how little warning we had before the ... the disturbances started. How close were you when the request for assistance was sent?”

Masuhiro grimaced. “Actually, we aren’t working under official orders. We were using some personal time off to train some business security people in riot protection and control on the outskirts of the lording, and when the riots broke out Meioh-san asked us to help stop a Clan shadow strike force attacking under cover of the violence. Anyway, is everything under control here?”

“Yes, the honorless cowards broke and ran when we attacked them from the rear,” Kun Su replied. “By this point, I think the only thought in their heads is getting as far from Nerima as they can, as fast as they can run.”

Masuhiro opened his mouth, paused, then finally shrugged. “You get all that?” he asked empty air, listened, and stiffened. “She’s _what_?” he shouted, turning around.

From behind the mini-tanks, a long limousine pulled forward and stopped in the space between the two flanking lead mini-tanks that Masuhiro had left empty when he’d driven his own mini-tank forward. A large man got out of the front passenger side and stepped back to open the rear passenger side door. He offered a hand, and helped out a tall woman, emerald-green hair framing a smiling face of ageless beauty, as another large man got out of the driver’s side.

Kun Su realized she was gaping and snapped her mouth closed. “Is that _Meioh Setsuna_?” she gushed. “I _love_ her styles! You were training _her_ security team? Uhm ... what is she doing here?”

“Yes, that’s Meioh-san,” Masuhiro replied, rolling his eyes, “and I have no idea why a fashion designer wants to march into a battle zone. I suspect her bodyguards don’t, either.”

The fashion legend caught the last as she approached and her lips quirked in a whimsical smile as she glanced at the two glowering men on each side of her, the man that had opened her door for her and the driver of the limousine. But the brief moment of levity ended, her expression turning bleak as she looked past Kun Su to survey what could be seen of the nighttime carnage. Then that, too, vanished as her face lost all expression and she focused on the Kuno ninja. In a quiet voice she said, “Chae-san, please forgive my bluntness, but time is of the essence. I need to speak with the head of Family Kuno as soon as possible, and I know you will want to get medical aid for your wounded.”

Kun Su realized she was gaping again and fought her expression back under control. “Y-Yes, of course I want medical aid, I’ve already sent a party to the hospital. But I’m afraid it isn’t safe to enter the estate grounds — there are snipers on the mansion roof and our communications are down, we have no way to tell them we’re friendly.” _The best communications gear in the Empire, and no one brought a cellphone,_ she thought with whimsical despair as she remembered her worst wounded.

“Oh, that’s no problem,” Setsuna replied. “The snipers aren’t yours, they’re mine — Lieutenant Shinohara’s, rather — people sent ahead by powered glider. So if you’ll assign some of your people to accompany us — me and my bodyguards — we can perhaps get that medical care to you that much faster.”

Kun Su turned to look at the line of people lying on the grass along the estate wall — some unconscious, others constantly shifting, low moans of pain too great to suppress filling the air. They’d carried first aid kits on their raid on the Tendo compound, of course, but not many; it hadn’t seemed necessary for an attack on so few. _It isn’t like one fashion designer and a couple of bodyguards will make much difference to what’s happening inside, especially with guards,_ she thought, and motioned for the leaders of the two closest teams to join her. “Chihiro, your team will accompany Meioh-san inside the mansion. Ngataria, your team will go with them and head for the infirmary once inside.”

The middle-aged Japanese man and young Maori woman nodded, waved their teams forward, and within moments were gone along with Setsuna and her bodyguard, up the ladders the raiders had left behind and into the Kuno estate.

“And here I thought insanity was a trait of the nobility,” Kun Su muttered to herself, then was grateful the mask covering her lower face helped the darkness conceal her furious blush when Masuhiro laughed.

“I suspect it has more to do with the amount of money one has piled up than any title,” he said. Sobering, he added, “Now, why don’t we pull what first aid kits we have in the tanks and see what we can do for your wounded until support arrives.”

/oOo\

Usagi and Akane stared at the screaming women piled on top of the Kuno heir, the women struggling against each other, scratches covering them where their fingernails had gouged long strips. Usagi was trying to fight down a giggling fit, and Akane had to admit that under other circumstances she would have found the sight hilarious. But now she felt nothing but burning impatience wrapped around a solid core of fear. They were in the way!

Stepping forward, she grabbed the woman on top of the mess by the arm and yanked her from her position to spill across the floor. It was as if she had popped the tab of a shaken soda, as several others rolled down as well, and even as Akane’s first target rolled to her feet and raced down the hall the pile unraveled as the rest followed.

A blushing Kodachi got to her feet. “Not my finest moment, I will admit ...” Her voice trailed off as Akane ignored her, striding past the her into the room beyond.

“Ranma!” the youngest Tendo shouted as she broke into a run, slamming into the naked redhead just struggling to her feet. Ranma tried to step backward, caught her foot on the body of the strange man behind her and fell backward, taking Akane with her.

“Ouch! Tomboy, that hurt, ya — oomph!” Ranma started to complain, only to break off as Akane smothered her with kisses.

After a few minutes, Kodachi coughed to get their attention. “I know you’re happy to see each other, but we really need to get moving,” she said reluctantly.

The two rolled apart, blushing furiously. Akane hastily rose to her feet and turned to find Ranma struggling to join her, stumbling slightly and fighting for balance, a battle almost lost again when Usagi stepped over and pulled her assigned mistress into a tight embrace. The younger blonde was barely able to keep them both on their feet; the way the Ranma had stiffened and Usagi was shivering didn’t help. “Ranma, what’s wrong?” Akane asked, unable to keep her worry out of her voice She grabbed Usagi’s shoulder to steady the two.

“Drugged,” Ranma replied, voice muffled by Usagi’s shoulder, her arms cautiously circling the Juubanite.

“Drugged?!” Kodachi exclaimed from where she’d caught Ranma by the arm to help keep her and Usagi upright. “What did they do to —” the Kuno heir started to ask, then broke off as she glanced at the padded table beside them in the middle of the room.

As Usagi reluctantly let her mistress go, a still blushing Ranma’s eyes followed Kodachi’s gaze. “It wasn’t what it looks like! The Mentalist was playing with my mind, not me!”

“Who was?” Kadachi asked, then looked down at the body by their feet, its head twisted around to look over its shoulder. “Nevermind. What are the symptoms?”

“Uh, I was pretty groggy when they were givin’ it to me,” Ranma replied, nodding toward the gas canister with the still faintly hissing plastic tube and mask attached. Kodachi strode over to it and sniffed cautiously from several feet away, eyebrows going up, before closing the tank’s valve. Ranma continued, “That’s pretty much worn off, I think, but I still got vertigo, an’ I can’t seem to touch my ki — it’s still there, I can feel it, but every time I try ta do anything with it, it just seems ta ... ooze away, sorta.”

“Hmmm.” Kodachi frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t recognize the effect. Most unfortunate, from what you say it would have been useful when we were still playing. I doubt there will be any permanent effects, you should be fine with time. Still, we don’t have time to wait.”

“Right,” Akane agreed. She ran her eyes over her sometime lover’s naked body, fighting to ignore the way Ranma’s inner thighs glistened slightly and the faint hint of musk in the air, then looked around the room. “Where did they put your clothes? And why did they strip you —” She broke off, deciding she didn’t want an answer, not yet. Her fingers quickly worked their way from button to button down the front of her blouse. “Nevermind. Here, put this on. The arms will be a little long and you won’t be able to button it all the way up, not with _your_ chest,” she added with a twinge of the old jealousy, “but at least it’ll cover everything, and should be long enough if you don’t do anything _too_ energetic.” She pulled the blouse out of her skirt and shrugged it off to hand it to Ranma, leaving her in her skirt and bra.

Ranma got one arm in its sleeve easily enough, struggled with the other before getting it in place with her assigned slave’s help, but simply could not make her fingers cooperate enough to button up the front. Finally, Akane gently pushed Ranma’s hands out of the way and took over, feeling the redhead shiver at her touch.

As Ranma stared down at the hands working their way up her front, what she could see of them, she asked with stilted nonchalance, “An’ where’s Kuno? I gotta date with him.”

Akane stiffened as rage flashed through her. For a moment, the world around her seemed to take on a reddish tinge. _Don’t, not yet. Ranma needs you, you can rant later._ Taking a deep breath and forcing herself to relax before resuming buttoning up the shirt, she replied, “Don’t push yourself, we’ll get to that murdering nutcase soon enough.”

Ranma’s eyes whipped up to stare at her. “D’ya _mean_ that — about Kuno?” she demanded.

Akane had to stop again as she shook with rage, and this time not because of Nerima’s delusional lord. _Do_ not _pound on Ranma, not after everything he’s gone through, no matter_ how _much of a baka he is!_ “Of course, I do!” she shouted, stepping back. “Ranma, you _know_ how I feel about all him! Why would you think I’ve changed my mind?”

It was Ranma’s turn to throw herself forward to slam into a full body-hug of Akane, though this time the youngest Tendo managed to keep them both on their feet. Ranma was gasping “He lied! He lied!” into her ear over and over.

Akane’s hesitantly wrapped her arms around the smaller girl clutching at her, her anger drowning in her rising confusion and the feel of moisture on her neck where Ranma’s head was pressed. “Who lied?” she asked. “Are you _crying_?”

Ranma stiffened and broke away, staggering slightly and dropping her gaze to hide her face as she wiped at her eyes and fought to bring her breathing under control. Usagi stepped behind her and put her arms around her waist. Ranma said, “He ... he s-said he’d gotten to ya first, played with yer mind so you were in love with Kuno.” She nodded at the corpse. “He didn’t?”

“No, he didn’t,” Akane replied, shamefaced as the last of her anger flickered out. “Kuno’s thugs grabbed me at a train station, I woke up here in some kind of jail cell. I don’t think I’d remember that if he’d been at me, and I still want Kuno dead. Sorry for yelling at you.”

“No problem,” Ranma said. She paused for a moment, then added, “He said that Ukyo was dead, an’ Konatsu an’ the Amazons, an’ that they were attacking the dojo. Did he lie about that, too?”

Akane froze and closed her eyes, only to instantly open them again as her last sight of the adopted Saotome flashed across her mind’s eye — the brunette’s body lying face-up on top of the corpse of one of her assassins, a knife hilt sticking out of her side and two bloody wounds in her chest from the spears Akane had just pulled out. “No, he didn’t lie, not about Ukyo. She’s dead.”

“So are the Amazons,” Kodachi added. “Video of the hole where the Cat Café used to be has been uploaded to the network. The explosion was so large that it brought down all the buildings around it. According to Hanh, Konatsu is dead, as well. But she said that it was Pyo-san that ordered the attacks, not my brother — a preemptive strike when my brother ordered that Akane be brought here. She didn’t know how the attack on the dojo went.”

“Hey, where _is_ Hanh?” Usagi demanded over Ranma’s shoulder.

Kodachi’s face lost all expression. “Don’t ... don’t ask,” she said, voice suddenly harsh.

Akane glanced at Ranma and Usagi. The blonde was confused, but regret warred with loss in Ranma’s eyes. Like her fiancée, the redhead had instantly guessed what must have happened, when the young ninja that Akane could barely remember from their only meeting on top of a warehouse roof had found her sense of honor clashing with friendship.

Ranma straightened, and gently broke away from Usagi’s embrace. “Thanks, Usagi-chan, but I think I can walk by myself, now.” Taking a deep breath, she said, “So we take care of Pyo-sama, too, an’ then see what’s left. Come on, let’s get this over with.”

/oOo\

Setsuna frowned in consideration as her little group cautiously moved into the mansion, her bodyguards in front and behind and the two teams of ninjas taking up the lead and the rear. When she had made her plans she had forgotten the Kuno ninjas returning from the Tendo strike — and she hadn’t expected the glider police to do so well. As a result, she was probably ahead of schedule. In this case, it would be _much_ better to be late than early. And it would give her a chance to provide for the wounded waiting for help, that could be useful in days to come as well.

“Chihiro, hold up for a moment,” she called out softly.

The team in front halted, all but its middle-aged leader keeping their attention on the corridor in front of them. The team in the rear was doing the same, except for its leader; she stepped forward past Setsuna’s bodyguard to join her fellow team leader and the fashion designer in the center.

“A change of plans,” Setsuna said when the two ninjas had joined her. “My meeting with the Kuno head is urgent, but not _that_ urgent and I can’t stop thinking of your wounded waiting for supplies. I doubt the hospital will be eager to send help on such a ... an uneasy night, so, Chihiro, your team and my people and I will help carry supplies back out to Chae-san. And now that I think of it, considering how quiet the streets were throughout our approach, the tanks’ haulers can probably join us safely enough. We can use them to transport the worst of the wounded to the hospital. I should have thought of that earlier, I’m sorry,” she added somewhat shamefacedly.

“There is nothing to be ashamed of, Meioh-san, you aren’t trained for war,” Chihiro replied. “But you’ve thought of it now, give me a moment to speak with Chae-san.” He stepped to the side and murmured into his mic.

Setsuna was grateful for the long practice that kept her expression stoic in the face of her deepening shame. It wasn’t lack of training, not with her millennia of experience, but her focus on her goal to the point that she tended to see everyone around her as threats, pawns, or irrelevant. _Maybe an extended vacation after this mess is over? If this works out as I hope, I can use my new position to ‘coincidentally’ encounter Michiru at a concert, and through her Haruka and Hotaru. Being able to spend time with them in public, and not just in the privacy of our home would be the most fun I’ve had in centuries._

For a moment she lost herself in daydreams of an American tour with her new, secret family: historic sites, national parks, and amusement parks. It would be safe with a minimal bodyguard — the Americans took a _very_ dim view of Japanese nobility importing their private wars to their ‘pure’ republics. The last time a daimyo had been assassinated on American soil, along with a few innocent bystanders, the United States Congress had mandated an embargo on all commercial contacts of any sort with every enemy of the murdered daimyo that the US Foreign Intelligence Agency had been able to unearth (a surprisingly through list) — and that embargo had not just applied to US companies, but to any company that wanted to do business in the US market. The then-Shogun’s ambassador had finally convinced the Congress to relent, but the damage the Empire’s economy had taken in the meantime had been enough for that Shogun to declare any future assassinations on US soil to be treason against the Empire. And that had paradoxically made the United States _the_ place for the Clans and Families to get away from it all for a while.

Setsuna was in the middle of fantasizing about Hotaru’s reaction to an especially luxurious theme park, when her daydream was interrupted by a soft cough from Chihiro. The ninja gave the fashion designer a moment to focus (and banish the soft smile from her face). When Setsuna’s eyes focused on her, the ninja said, “Chae-san has approved the change in plans, with her thanks. It seems your Lieutenant Shinohara already thought of using the tank haulers as you suggested, but was unwilling to risk their safety even with things as quiet as they appear. He’s sent four of the tanks back to escort them in.”

Setsuna nodded acknowledgment. “Good. So, where are the medical supplies stored?”

/oOo\

Kuno stood in the middle of the command center, maintaining his stoic façade while worry twisted in his gut and his thoughts continued their circling about the question of whether to stay or go. Something had gone wrong, perhaps badly. Not one of the courageous retainers that he had sent to pull back their compatriots from their assigned posts had returned, even as faint echoes of destruction had reached his ears, grown louder, until the sound of the desecration of the home of his ancestors filled the air.

Not had he been alone all this time, a number of rude (in all senses of the word) strangers had found him. Most, though, had either been overcome by shame at the thought of attacking their lord, or possessed the intelligence to understand how much greater were his accomplishments in the martial arts. But most were not all, and the corpse of the traitor Pyo had been joined by several men and one woman, pawns of the vile sorcerer that had thought to match their martial prowess against his own. Blood coated the room’s floor to the extent that his footing was becoming treacherous.

Finally, Nerima’s lord sighed, shoulders slumping slightly. _They will not be returning,_ he thought despairingly. He could not understand how a riotous mob had come over the wall fast enough to overwhelm the valiant defenders of his home, but it had become patently obvious that they had. There was no point in waiting any longer.

And then a chant went up, growing in intensity as in volume, second to second from within the depths of the mansion and coming ever nearer. They were repeating the name of his hated nemesis, he was here!

Kuno began to stride forward, only to find himself fighting to stay upright as his feet slipped in the blood pooling on the floor. Recovering his balance, he stared thoughtfully at the streaks his efforts had smeared in the red, a vicious smile crossing his face. _Ever has it been my foe’s ability to evade my righteous wrath that has prevented me from enforcing true justice on the demon spawn ... but here, now, any such attempt would undoubtedly see him spilled on the floor, open to my avenging blade!_ Yes, he decided, here was the place to meet Ranma.

Then the chant dimmed, and four figures turned the corner into the hallway leading to the command center — and Kuno’s thoughts of glorious vengeance stuttered to a halt at the sight of the two girls that had been the center of his universe for over two years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those that don't know, "fubar" is military slang: "fucked up beyond all recognition."


	38. Edgehill Fight

_A few minutes earlier:_

Kodachi glanced out of the corner of her eye at the two girls she had taken so much pleasure in teasing — okay, tormenting — for almost two years. Akane was keeping close to her fiancé with Usagi right behind them, but Ranma had insisted on walking without help, saying that whatever drug the Mentalist had used had worn off enough that she could handle herself. It had even been true, so long as she took it slowly — very slowly, in the beginning. But the redhead was recovering at a rate that the Kuno heir found surprising. _Perhaps the sheer size of her ... his reserves is impacting the drug’s effectiveness?_

More than that, Kodachi was worried. A seed had been planted with Hanh’s death and found fertile soil: how were the Kuno retainers going to react to their lord’s death? There must be others as unhappy with the situation as Hanh had been, but unlike her shadow they hadn’t been unhappy enough to set themselves up for failure and now Ukyo and Konatsu were dead and the Cat Café a massive hole in the ground. And there would be a brief window between her brother’s death and her own recognition as the new Lady of Nerima by the Emperor — most likely, the majority of the ninja clan that had served the Family for generations would accept her authority in advance, but would they all? She didn’t know — and if they didn’t, and considered themselves honorbound to avenge the killing of the lord to whom they owed their allegiance ...

At first, she hadn’t been all _that_ worried, counting on the effects of that drug to keep Ranma out of the coming confrontation — all of the others, really; Akane would have been willing to stay behind to guard her temporarily helpless fiancé from any Kuno retainers that might stumble across her (the fact that she was pregnant would help; come to think of it, she hadn’t mentioned that little fact to Ranma yet, had she?), and the blonde slave would have been happy to stay with them. But now Kodachi was scrambling for another excuse, there had to be _some_ way to keep her new friend from killing a man he had come to respect, a respect that had become obvious in their idle chatter during the rest breaks of their sparring sessions. Not that the redhead had been exactly talkative about her time with her master, but the undercurrent had been clear. And Kodachi suspected that Ranma didn’t know she knew just what the faint chill in the air around the redhead meant — her new friend was using the Soul of Ice to keep her emotions under control. She suspected Ranma had been using it since hearing of the death of her adopted sister. Yes, this had all the earmarks of a spectacular clusterfuck, and definitely _not_ as pleasurable as her last one.

_Honor,_ she decided reluctantly. _It’ll have to be honor. There is no earthly way that Ranma will accept a pragmatic excuse to give up his quest for my brother’s death, and he knows I’ve been reading up on the various codes around the world, so he_ ought _to believe me — at least, enough to let me talk him into doing what he wants to do, anyway. Of course, that means I’ll have to finally pick one. Though why_ any _sane person wants one ..._ The memory of Hanh’s body flying toward her flashed through the gymnast’s mind, her friend’s head canted at an angle that had sent a bolt of fear through her ... the faint smile on the ninja’s face as the life faded from her eyes... Kodachi forced the images away, pulled up the memory of the day Ranma had lectured her on the importance of honor, used the memory as a shield against her own pain. _No, Ranma is right, even the honorless need honor in others to live, or have anything worth living for. And if I wish to keep the friendship Ranma seems to feel for me, I will need it as well._

Thinking of the book she’d found and studied, as much to annoy her brother when he learned of it as for its actual value, she smiled with bittersweet humor. _The World’s Honor_ had been an iconoclastic work, for the Empire at least. Certainly, a survey of the various forms of honor found throughout the planet’s dominant cultures was not particularly controversial, but Kuramochi Seiji’s assertion that they were of equal value with Bushido because they served the same basic purposes had been considered heresy by the more conservative members of Imperial society — including her tradition-bound stick-up-the-ass brother. But for all of its value as a stick with which to discreetly poke at her jailor, it had been truly useful for its ostensible purpose. _So, ride tall, shoot straight, fear whatever God actually exists if any and no one else, dance with the one what brung you, and never back out on a handshake. The Americans’ code of honor it is — one of them, at least. No surprise that when the ultimate individualists have to choose a code to build their society upon, they go with ‘all of the above’. How those anarchists have managed to stay a single nation ..._

Kodachi glanced around, focusing again on her surroundings, and the increasing volume of the sounds of destruction drifting through the halls — they weren’t all that far from the command center and were going to be encountering the mob at any time, they needed to settle this. “Ranma, Akane, hold a moment, we need to talk,” she called out softly.

The others stopped and turned to face her, Ranma leaning against the wall and crossing her arms in an attempt at nonchalance, Akane and Usagi on each side surreptitiously eyeing the girl between them. “What’s up?” Ranma asked.

Kodachi took a deep breath and unconsciously crossed her arms in imitation of the redhead. “When we find my brother, he’s mine,” she said, voice flat.

“What!? No!” Akane shouted. “After what I’ve ... he’s done —”

“Easy, Tomboy,” Ranma broke in to say. “We both have claims — yeah, ya had ta act as second fer yer dad, but ya haven’t been spending the last few weeks in Kuno’s bed. I think you ... an’ yer sisters ... owe me fer that.”

Akane’s mouth snapped shut on another shouted objection, her expression shifting from fury to guilty remorse in a heartbeat. “Ranma, I —” she started, reaching for her fiancé’s hand only to pause, her gaze sharpening.

Kodachi suppressed an unladylike snort. _Is she only now noticing how_ cold _Ranma is?_

“So, why you an’ not me?” Ranma asked, her gaze fixed on Kodachi.

“Because I shoot my own dogs,” Kodachi replied shortly.

All three girls stared at her. “You what?” Ranma asked.

“I shoot my own dogs,” Kodachi repeated, smiling tightly at the others’ confusion. “It’s an American term — they get very attached to their dogs, and if one got rabies and became a danger to everyone it was its owner’s job to kill it. They even made a movie about it, ‘Old Yellow’. That seems rather apropos to our circumstances, does it not?” Sobering, she finished, “He’s my brother. I’ll deal with him.”

Akane and Usagi said nothing, though the martial artist had a sympathetic expression Kodachi had never expected to see her former sort-of competitor show her. The Tendo and a distinctly greenish Usagi looked at a thoughtful Ranma.

The redhead finally nodded. “All right, you get first go. But if yer life is in real danger I’m steppin’ in.”

Kodachi glanced toward Akane, then down at the girl’s stomach. Akane froze, then closed her mouth, undoubtedly swallowing a promise to jump in as well — the girl was actually able to pick up a hint if it was blatant enough. _Good. Stay out of it, and you won’t have a fight with your lover about staying and risking your baby._ Focusing back to find Ranma staring expectantly at Akane (and with increasing confusion, undoubtedly at the lack of her usual insistence that she was a martial artist, too), Kodachi bowed and said, “I thank you for recognizing my honor. After the way I treated you I would have no right to object if you decided that I had none worthy of respecting.” She straightened without waiting for a response. “Usagi-chan, you don’t need to see this. Once we meet some of the mob and convince them you are our friend —”

But the slave was shaking her head, her jaw-length blond hair whipping across her cheeks even as her arms lifted to hug herself over her maid’s apron. “No. I know I can’t really do anything to help, but I need to see what happens.”

Kodachi glanced at Akane, and the Tendo gave a faint nod. “No, Ranma,” the Kuno heir said, overriding the redhead’s protests. “She’s been a part of this almost from the beginning, she has a right to be there at the end.” _And maybe concern for her safety will help keep you out of it._ “Let’s get this over with.”

/\

She had been right, it had taken less than a minute after they started forward again to encounter the first of the mob. The initial meeting had been ... uneasy ... until the newcomers had been reassured by Ranma and especially Akane that the Kuno heir was on their side. The obvious fact that Ranma’s sole garment was Akane’s blouse hadn’t helped, but for once the way Akane had hated Kodachi had turned out to be useful as well as amusing. Ranma was known for his forgiving nature, Akane much less so — if she was willing to give her longtime very public enemy a pass, the rioters weren’t going to second-guess her. Especially considering the stories that had circulated of how she’d plowed through the Hentai Brigade before Ranma’s arrival shut it down. Now the four moved through a sea of people chanting Ranma’s name, the crowd growing ever larger as the shouted mantra attracted others to join and take up the chorus.

And then the four turned into the corridor leading to the command center, the mob immediately behind them falling silent, and they walked the final yards toward the stunned young man in traditional samurai robes staring at them.

/\

Usagi did _not_ want to be there. As she walked alongside her new friends, the chant of her mistress’s true name beating in her ears, she could _feel_ the bloodlust in the air she moved through, the need to rend and tear, to see blood on the walls, all focused through the redhead in front of her, and more than anything she wanted to be back in her bedroom in the home she’d grown up in, her covers tucked up under her chin, and her mother there to keep away the monsters that walk by night.

But she was years past that — her home had gone up on the auction block, her family had as well and been scattered only the Powers knew where, and a young man had seen her shaking in fear up on the auction stage, had bought her and brought her to a new home where he had treated her with kindness, patience and undeserved respect, and eventually she liked to think love (if not the exact kind she had dreamed of). And now she and her friends — well, her friends, anyway — were going to kill him.

Then they’d turned the corner into a new hallway, Ranma and Akane in front Kodachi falling in beside the blonde slave behind, and Akane hissed, tensing. Usagi looked around the raven-haired girl, down the hallway, and gasped at the sight of her master standing in the center of a room she’d never seen before. He was still dressed in the robes he’d donned before leaving his quarters, but with dark splotches on them visible in the dim emergency lights. His eyes met hers, and she thought she could see pain at her apparent betrayal. Her shivering increased as the distance narrowed, and she found herself abruptly gagging as an indescribable stench washed over her. “Wh-what _is_ that stink?” she gasped out.

“Death,” Kodachi said, glancing toward the shuddering girl. Her stern gaze softened. “It isn’t too late for you to go back,” she murmured. “You really don’t need to do this.”

Her hand over her mouth, Usagi shook her head jerkily.

Kodachi sighed. “Very well, but at least stay in the corridor. You’ll be in the way inside the room, and from the smell you don’t want to be walking on that floor.”

Usagi swallowed hard and nodded just as jerkily.

Then they reached the end of the hallway, and her master backed up as Ranma and Akane stepped into the room and split right and left to opposite sides of the doorway. Kodachi stopped in the middle of the doorway between the other two martial artists.

Usagi squeezed in beside Kodachi, forcing the Kuno heir to step to the side to make room. The younger girl looked into the room, and instantly wished she hadn’t at the sight of pieces of ... two? three? four? ... bodies scattered on the floor in what seemed an endless pool of dark blood. She whipped her gaze up to look at the consoles and screens with their frozen images that filled the walls, to focus on anything but the carnage on the floor, and froze as she realized that she’d _recognized_ one of the disembodied heads. Almost is if they had a will of their own, her eyes slowly shifted down to stare at the shock- and pain-filled face of the Master of Servants, eyes empty of life staring at her.

With that, she lost her fight to control her rising nausea. Whipping around she dropped to her knees and noisily emptied her dinner onto the rug covering the hardwood floor and spattering her hands and forearms. Without a word, Kodachi crouched beside her, putting down her weapons and pulling Usagi’s short-cut hair back away from her mouth as the young slave fought to stop retching.

As Usagi sat back and desperately untied her apron to use to wipe herself clean of her own vomit, she heard her master say, “Truly, Saotome is a monster beyond all belief; not only does he once again warp my beauteous loves to rage against the true object of their affections and makes use of their bodies, but to ensnare another sweet flower in his sorceries and send her to such a scene! I already knew him to be a perverse coward, heartless and without honor, but surely he has now shown himself to be a true lover of pain and degradation of the innocent!”

“You’re one ta talk, Ukyo’s dead — my best friend an’ sister. So’s Konatsu, an’ the Amazons, whoever was in the café when it blew, all at the hands a’ yer goons. An’ who knows what they left behind at the dojo — my folks, Akane’s sisters.” It was Ranma’s voice, but like nothing Usagi had ever heard from her mistress. The older girl’s voice was one of the things about her that Usagi had come to love, as expressive as her face — joy, pride, worry, nervousness, despair, gentle patience as she tried to train a klutz, her every mood laid bare to the world. But this voice was cold, as implacable as the glaciers the blonde had seen in a documentary for school, grinding inexorably down out of the Roof of the World.

For a long moment Tatewaki was silent, until he finally managed to reply, “That ... that was not by my orders. Pyo-san —”

“— even brought in a mind raper ta _fix_ me an’ Akane, make us fit yer dreams,” Ranma cut in. “You’ll find his body down in yer basement. But even if Pyo wasn’t obeyin’ yer orders, he was yer man, workin’ ta make yer twisted delusions real. No, you’re a mad dog, an’ ya need ta be put down.”

/\

Kodachi sighed and rose to her feet, tucking her ribbon into her sash and taking a club in each hand. _That’s my cue._ She offered a hand to Usagi. The slave finished wiping her arms and dropped her soiled apron on top of her dinner before taking the offered hand and standing.

“Remember, stay in the hallway,” Kodachi murmured, turning and striding into the control room even as Usagi spasmodically nodded. Almost instantly, Kodachi was stepping in blood — no way to avoid it, really, she found it hard to believe that three — no, four — bodies had that much blood in them. The wood floor didn’t help, even with what had been spattered across the consoles and screens. She was going to be seeing this room again, in her nightmares. They all were. _That’s if you survive — focus!_

There’s an art to moving on slick surfaces, keeping the weight balanced on a secure leg while stepping, the other leg loose and flexible. It wasn’t a skill Kodachi had learned training in her Art, rhythmic gymnastics rings didn’t have plastic coating. Rather, she’d acquired it after a few embarrassing encounters with ‘the redheaded harridan’ — her ambushes of other schools’ rhythmic gymnastics teams hadn’t prepared her for facing an opponent equal in skill in a ‘wild’ environment. But she had persevered and learned, and while she’d actually been feeling a little guilty lately for the way she’d tormented Ranma and Akane, as she moved past her former toys further out onto the blood-slick floor, feet firmly placed and knees slightly bent, she was grateful for the experience. This dimly-lit, blood-splattered room was about as far from a rhythmic gymnastics martial arts ring as it was possible to get.

Her brother was practically sputtering, denying Ranma’s charge of insanity and pleading with her to “again throw off the glamour of the foul wizard that had so long held her in abusive thrall.” Though his tone seemed a little ... hesitant, maybe ... uncertain. Was he finally realizing just how badly he had mishandled things with his two ‘loves’?

Kodachi took a deep breath. _If so, it’s too late. Time to end this._ For a brief moment, she considered just attacking without warning — one quick whip of her ribbon, doing deliberately what she’d done accidentally to Hanh, what their retainers had done to the Amazons.... _No. Ranma is as honestly honorbound as any I have known, and he may see this as a duel. If I just kill my brother, he may never trust me._ She stepped forward, toggling the buttons that popped the spikes in her clubs.

Her brother’s eyes flicked toward her. “You at least, I am not surprised to find here arrayed against me,” he ranted, voice firming, hesitance gone. “Was all your study of the ways of honor simply a blind, behind which you pursued your true intentions? Did the honorless coward need to ensorcel you, or was it enough to simply offer to make you head of the Family?”

Kodachi smiled back at her brother, a superior, haughty smile designed to infuriate. “No, actually I have you to thank for being here — if you hadn’t forced the time and inclination to study upon me, I would never have realized that just because our people are hidebound and blinkered doesn’t mean that the same is true for all others. So as I choose to accept responsibility for my own family’s pointless atrocities — ‘to shoot my own dog’, as the Americans say — defend yourself.”

Of course, being ‘honorable’ didn’t mean being stupid. Even as she spoke Kodachi stepped carefully to the side, and by the time Tatewaki finished gaping at her and ignored his wakizashi to bring the Family sword up into a two-handed ready position, its forward angled blade canted toward her and glowing with ki for those with the ability to see it, she had placed herself between Ranma and her brother. _Let’s see you use one of your air pressure strikes with your precious ‘pig-tailed girl’ behind me,_ she thought with a smirk, before frowning slightly. The feel of the ground under her thin-soled competition slippers had changed, gone from slippery to a cold firm grip in a couple of steps. Risking a brief downward glance, her eyes widened at the sight of the blood at her feet, frozen. _Ranma’s Soul of Ice! It has strengthened —_ She broke off the thought; she’d worry about her friend’s mental state later, at the moment it had given her an opportunity.

Shifting her stance slightly, Kodachi abruptly leaped upwards in a backwards flip over the redhead behind her, her feet slammed into the monitors lining the wall above the console, and she _pushed_ , thrusting herself up into an arc over her brother. Even as she passed over his head, one ki-reinforced club swung for his temple as the other moved to block his inevitable strike ... and in that instant she almost lost the fight — and her life — as Tatewaki swung his katana up to meet her. Only the fact that Kodachi’s club managed to twist the blade out of alignment even as the club’s head was sliced in two by the strike saved her life. The flat of the Kuno blade smashed into her side, and her graceful arc turned into an out of control tumble before she slammed into the monitors behind him, dropped to the console below them, and rolled off to knock aside the seat in front of it and fall to the floor.

Kodachi rolled to the side as the air pressure from Tatewaki’s follow-up swing blew the chair apart in an explosion of steel and wooden shrapnel and continued on to smash into the console she’d just fallen off of, sparks showering out as the console shattered under the impact.

Frantically rolling to her feet, slippers slipping and fighting for purchase on the blood-slick surface of the floor, Kodachi dropped the now useless club that had saved her life and yanked her ribbon out of her sash to send it spiraling out toward her brother. She was just in time for the ki-reinforced ribbon’s spiral to break up Tatewaki’s follow-up air pressure strike — instead of adding one more bloody explosion to coat the monitors, the almost-spent burst knocked her backward against another console.

She gasped at the stabbing pain of a rib snapping and again dropped to the floor. This time, she sent her ribbon whipping out to wrap around one of Tatewaki’s ankles and _yanked_. Another stab of pain from her broken rib forced out a hissing shriek, but it worked — her brother’s foot was yanked out from underneath, he hopped in an attempt to maintain balance, his free foot slipped in the blood and body fluids, and Nerima’s lord fell backward, head cracking on the floor and arms thrown wide.

Kodachi dropped her last club and scrabbled at her sash, fingers finding one of the packets of sleeping powder she’d secreted there before leaving her suite, and she hurled it toward Tatewaki only to see him roll to the side out of its way instead of batting at it. As his katana flashed out to cut his ankle free — and reduce the length of her ribbon by a third — Kodachi’s eyes widened as the packet sailed on to smack into a chair leg. The primer at its base exploded, blowing the sleeping powder into the air ... right next to Ranma. Unnoticed by the two combatants, the redhead had been slipping along the wall. Fortunately, the puff of powder was too low for her to breathe it in.

_Right, keep brother_ dearest _focused on me._ Kodachi grabbed the club and rose to her feet, fighting through another stab of pain. _And no more aerial gymnastics,_ she thought as Tatewaki also rose and stepped to the center of the room. _I think the rib is too far to the side to puncture a lung, but let’s not push it._

“Truly, you are skilled in your chosen Art,” her brother intoned as he also rose, “to the point that your blatant cheating during competitions was pointless.”

Kodachi shrugged, hiding a wince at the fresh stab in her side, keeping her attention focused on Tatewaki and not the redhead moving along the line of consoles behind him. _Maybe_ one _more aerial gymnastic routine._ “Not true,” she replied nonchalantly. “The cheating embarrassed Daddy Dearest, and that was the point. The training itself was for fun.”

She circled around toward her brother’s right, watching as he shifted to keep her centered. She was going to need to get him to drop the two-handed grip....

Again, she leaped up, thrust her legs back against the console behind her and _pushed_. Even as she flew up in an arc that would again carry her over her brother to the monitors mounted on the wall several yards to the left of his slave, she sent her shortened ribbon snaking ahead, threw her spiked club at his center of mass, held her breath ... and her brother’s left hand released its grip on his katana’s hilt to sweep his wakizashi from its sheath and intercept the club, cleaving it in half even as the katana swept to intercept her. _Yes!_ With the last technique she’d secretly developed before their father’s death, she directed her ki-saturated ribbon to whip around Tatewaki’s right wrist and yanked to pull his hand out of position, alter her trajectory to drop her next to Ranma — and was jerked short as Tatewaki counter-pulled, slammed her down toward the floor.

She managed to twist to land upright, but her feet skidded on the blood- and gore-slick wood, slipped out from underneath her, and she used her ki-controlled ribbon to yank-twist again as she slid toward the wall even her brother pulled on the ribbon himself, throwing her further off-balance. The crack of her brother’s snapping wrist was almost drowned out by her thin shriek as one canted foot slammed into the angle where wall and floor met. pain flashed up her leg to meet the stabbing pain in her side when she smashed into the console and she felt another rib go, above the first.

But the thud of steel on wood from the Kuno Family blade hitting the floor made it worth it.

Blinking teary eyes to focus on her brother in a world gone gray and hazy with pain, Kodachi had to admit that, whatever his faults, her brother was a hardy warrior. A second thud signaled his wakizashi dropping as he ignored his broken right wrist to crouch and reached with his left hand for the Family katana.

But even as he began to crouch, Ranma dove forward, sliding across the floor to snatch the katana from underneath her master’s reaching hand. Her slide stopped just before reaching the chairs on the other side of the room, and she rolled to her feet and turned to face him, the half-buttoned blouse that was her only garment smeared dark with blood. More was on the tops and inside of her breasts left bare by the blouse’s unbuttoned top half. Her hard eyes looked past Tatewaki to focus on Kodachi where she was holding herself up, leaning on the console she had collided with. “Kodachi, ya did good, but I’ll take it from here,” Ranma said, voice still cold and implacable.

Kodachi nodded before carefully seating herself in the chair beside her — however much she might wish it otherwise, all continuing the duel would accomplish was her death. “He’s all yours,” she replied, and Ranma’s gaze shifted back to her master where he still half-crouched, staring up at her. She waited.

Kodachi glanced over to the hallway to find Usagi still standing there, Akane beside her. The blonde slave’s wet cheeks shone in the dim emergency lights, and she clutched at the older girl’s hand.

“Ranko, please,” her brother said quietly, and Kodachi switched her gaze back to the combatants to find Tatewaki had picked up the wakizashi he had dropped and risen to his feet. His eyes were fixed on the redhead that had shared his bed for the past weeks even as he tucked his broken wrist into the folds of his robe. “You don’t want to do this, I _know_ it,” he continued. “You can fight off that perverse coward’s influence.”

“No,” Ranma replied, voice finally harsh. “No, I have too many dead — Ukyo, Konatsu, Shampoo, Mousse, Cologne-sensei, the innocent bystanders around the Cat Café, maybe Mom, Pop, Kasumi, Nabiki ... I owe ‘em a death.”

Tatewaki stiffened, but reluctantly nodded. “Very well, let us finish this.” He took a deep breath, lifted his wakizashi, and turned slightly to present his left side to his slave.

Ranma waited another long moment, then lifted the Kuno Family blade in the two-handed grip she’d practiced in her sparring sessions with her master, and flowed across the floor toward him as if it was a competition mat and not blood-slick wood. The sound of skirling steel filled the room as she struck again and again, each blow rising, Tatewaki backing up and around the room. He parried her last overhand blow with upraised wakizashi as he stepped back again, and Ranma spun to the side and kicked up, her foot smacking into his wrist. As the wakizashi spiraled away to clang into a console, her katana swept up to slash into his armpit and through his shoulder, and his left arm fell away in a shower of blood.

Tatewaki stepped back without even trying to use his broken right hand to staunch the pulsing blood, his face calm, gaze fixed on Ranma’s blue eyes. She gazed back without a word, dripping katana hanging limply at her side, as he dropped to his knees and then fell to his side. Only when his body finally rolled onto its back, empty, unblinking eyes staring at the ceiling, did she turn away and look around.

Akane gently broke Usagi’s death-grip on her hand and rushed to embrace her lover, Ranma’s free arm circling her waist, and Kodachi stood up from where she sat and stepped cautiously forward. She tried and failed to bite back a whimper at the pain that flashed up from her ankle, but it didn’t seem to be broken and she slowly hobbled her way forward. Usagi, also rushing toward Ranma, glanced over at her new owner at the faint sounds of pain Kodachi couldn’t keep from escaping, and detoured to her mistress to pull an arm up around her shoulder and circle an arm around the back of Kodachi’s waist.

With the blonde girl’s help Kodachi hobbled over to stop a few yards from the redhead she’d just inherited with her thumb tucked into her sash. “Ranma, I believe the Kuno Family blade is mine, now,” she said softly.

Ranma broke her embrace of Akane and turned to face her new mistress. Her eyes were unreadable but two tear-tracks ran down her cheeks. “Kodachi, remember in the garden that first night, when ya asked me if my honor was worth all this?” she asked, voice unnaturally calm without the cold it had held before.

“Ranma, please give me the sword.”

As if she hadn’t heard Kodachi speak, Ranma continued, “I was wrong.”

Instantly, the thumb Kodachi had tucked into her sash popped another packet of sleeping powder up into her hand and she threw it across the few yards between them. It hit the bare skin covering Ranma’s breastbone just above the swell of her breasts, the primer flashed on impact, and the powder puffed up around Ranma’s face just as she was sucking in a shocked breath. Within seconds, her eyes rolled up as she dropped the katana and collapsed into the arms of an equally shocked Akane. The raven-haired girl staggered under the sudden weight, and quickly lowered her unconscious lover and herself to the floor before she could fall. With Usagi’s help, Kodachi knelt beside them, picking up the katana and taking one of Ranma’s hands in hers.

Akane’s face had been contorting in anger, but that stopped her. Taking a deep breath, she blew it out, expression relaxing as she did. “Why?” she quietly asked.

“I am uncertain of Ranma’s mental state,” Kodachi replied equally quietly. “I believe it would be best to let him sleep until we learn what transpired at the dojo.”

Akane slowly nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Usagi knelt beside the other three girls. Kodachi gave her a strained smile. “Usagi, why don’t you take Ranma for a few minutes? Akane needs to tell the mob waiting for word of what has happened — and that it would be best if they went home. I cannot imagine that word of this night’s events hadn’t gone out to our other holdings before ... whatever happened to our network happened.” She looked around again at the frozen images on the majority of monitors that hadn’t been broken in the fighting. “Takeuchi is a competent head of Security, he will be here with more of our people as soon as he has enough gathered in one place to not be overwhelmed when he arrives — within a few hours, at most.”

Akane nodded and without a word shifted the sleeping redhead over to the blonde slave’s lap, then rose and strode from the room.

Kodachi put aside the Kuno Family blade, and reached over to stroke Ranma’s hair. She whispered, “No, Ranma, you were right.”

/oOo\

Setsuna again strode through the halls of the Kuno mansion, Kuno ninjas and her bodyguards before and behind, several of the ninjas carrying battery-powered lanterns that Lieutenant Shinohara’s people had provided — regularly carried along for those times they had to get out of their mini-tanks, apparently. The medical supplies had been delivered; the escorted tank haulers had arrived and left for the hospital with their loads of the worst wounded of the Kuno retainers. And though both ninjas and bodyguards were as alert as ever, the edge had been taken off their tension by the reports from both the police on the roof and ninjas keeping watch along the estate wall that the ‘rioters’ were quietly leaving the mansion through the same doors they’d entered. Whatever had happened inside, it was over.

Ironically, as her escort was relaxing, Setsuna was fighting to hide the way her own anxiety was ratcheting up with every step closer to the mansion control center. The way the Time Gates had lost all focus meant that after many centuries of having at least _some_ idea of what was coming, she was flying blind — and the last time she’d done that over four centuries before hadn’t turned out so well. She had considered ducking into a convenient bathroom and paying a quick visit to the Time Gates to see if they had changed since the fighting had started, but reluctantly decided against it. True, her departure and return would literally have no gap between them. But she wouldn’t return in the same _position_ , and she had no idea what kind of security cameras the Kunos’ people might have in place.

_Oh, stop your whining,_ she thought to herself. _It’s not like last time, if things don’t work out now that just means they continue as they are — the Time Gates becoming balanced between futures is a_ good _thing!_

But the hope and fear warring within her wouldn’t be appeased so easily, and as a distraction she considered the three mercenaries that had been searching the bodies on the estate grounds when her little group had returned with the medical supplies. They’d been clearly looking for someone — not bothering to search any of the bodies, just getting a view of each one’s face and moving on — and while the snipers on the roof, being Captain Goto’s people, wouldn’t have fired on anyone that was clearly not a threat, the three wouldn’t have known that when they began their search.

_I’ll have to acquire a copy of the video footage from the night scopes, see if my people can identify them,_ Setuna decided. _People with that kind of loyalty need a better cause to fight for than whatever job their employer of the week has for them._

Then the first hints of death stench hit them, and her escort was suddenly no longer relaxed.

The stench grew worse the closer they came to their destination, until when they turned into the last corridor it seemed to have a physical weight. Setsuna’s expression remained impassive, it wasn’t anything she hadn’t smelled countless times before (if not usually in quite so concentrated levels), but the complexions of her bodyguards’ pinched faces were distinctly greenish and even the ninjas were gagging a bit behind the scarves across their lower faces.

Then the ninjas in the lead slammed to a stop. Setsuna waited for a long minute, then prodded her bodyguard in front. “Genpaku, get me through,” she ordered.

He glanced over his shoulder at her, then at his fellow bodyguard behind her. “Motoyuki, keep her here,” he ordered, and turned back to gently push his way through the ninjas in front of him. Then he was back, looking shaken. “It’s safe, just a surprise,” he reported. “Follow me.”

A few moments later, Setsuna was in the control room. She’d seen the room before in the Time Gates, of course, but never like this — an abattoir to match the stench, awash in blood and gore and pieces of bodies scattered about. Including those of the latest lord of Nerima and the Master of Servants. Good.

Having taken in the gory scene in a glance, Setsuna focused on the huddle of girls in the middle of the room and felt her heart freeze at the sight of a limp Ranma lying in Akane’s lap, Usagi and Kodachi kneeling beside the redhead and each holding a hand. Then Ranma’s bountiful chest rose with a breath, and Setsuna swayed in place, lightheaded with relief — unconscious, not dead. Whatever else happened — had happened — at least some good was salvageable out of this mess.

She took a moment to regain her composure, then gently touched the hand Genpaku had laid on her shoulder to steady her before striding forward.

The three girls looked up at her approach, and Kodachi’s eyes widened in shock as she recognized the fashion mogul. “Meioh-san, what are you _doing_ here?” she demanded.

Setsuna knelt in front of them, just as heedless as the girls of the bloody floor. “Seeing that your brother is dead, I’m here to make you an offer,” she replied. “The House of Kuno is in dire straits — your home estate sacked, your security forces scattered, your resources stretched to the breaking point. The only thing that has kept the attacks on your holdings from crippling you is the Imperial Army taking responsibility for guarding some of your properties. Even now, this estate is being protected by a detachment of the Shogun’s security and only unofficially — they are on leave, temporarily hired to train my own security. When they return to their regular jobs, you will have to bring home your own security to replace them and inevitably leave openings for the circling vultures. Alone, with an untested young woman with a reputation as a hedonist as head of the Family, it is unlikely that you will last a month.”

Kodachi nodded soberly. “True, most likely. And your alternative?”

“I would like to adopt you.” Around them, the ninjas that had escorted Setsuna froze. Her bodyguards were just as abruptly on alert, stepping to each side of her and turning outward to split the room between them. Setsuna ignored them, her eyes fixed on the last living Kuno.

Kodachi stared back for a long moment. At last she asked, “Why would you want to throw yourself into this snake pit by becoming the head of House Kuno?”

“It isn’t a matter of _want_ ,” Setsuna replied, “There’s a job that needs doing, and I need the resources and position this would give me to do it. One correction, though — I want to become the head of House _Meioh_ , not Kuno. I have no children nor will have any in the future, so you would be my heir and the line would pass through your children. But the Family name would be mine.”

Kodachi gazed at the emerald-haired woman kneeling in front of her for a long moment, and Setsuna could almost see the thoughts flashing through the girl’s eyes, considering her options, a task made easier by the fact that she didn’t really have any. She glanced around the room at her family retainers present. “What would you do with the Family’s slaves?” she asked.

Setsuna shrugged. “Depends on the slave. The college graduates paying off their loans? Nothing. But any from Juuban are going to have their debts paid off and be freed, and I’ll be buying and freeing as many Juubanites that were purchased by others as I can. And Ranma will not only be freed, but thanks to how high the bidding went during his auction he’ll be a very wealthy young man.”

Kodachi’s eyes sharpened at the mention of Ranma, an unspoken promise of pain if Setsuna didn’t do as she’d said, but then the last living Kuno looked down at the unconscious redhead whose hand she held before reaching out to gently stroke flame-red hair.

“No,” she finally said, “there will be no children. We Kunos have done enough damage to the world, I will be the last.”

Setsuna waited a long moment, tight nerves singing. When Kodachi failed to continue, she asked, “So do you accept?”

Kodachi nodded without looking up. “Yes, I accept.”

Against every effort to prevent it, Setsuna’s breath gusted out in relief as the world seemed to float with the weight lifting off her shoulders. When she felt she could trust her voice, she said, “Then we need to get moving. We have a long night and a longer day ahead of us if we are to hold off disaster.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title comes from the poem by Rudyard Kipling, about the first major battle of the English Civil War:
> 
> **Edgehill Fight**
> 
> Naked and grey the Cotswolds stand  
> Beneath the autumn sun,  
> And the stubble-fields on either hand  
> Where Stour and Avon run.  
> There is no change in the patient land  
> That has bred us every one.
> 
> She should have passed in cloud and fire  
> And saved us from this sin  
> Of war--red war--'twixt child and sire,  
> Household and kith and kin,  
> In the heart of a sleepy Midland shire.  
> With the harvest scarcely in.
> 
> But there is no change as we meet at last  
> On the brow-head or the plain,  
> And the raw astonished ranks stand fast  
> To slay or to be slain  
> By the men they knew in the kindly past  
> That shall never come again--
> 
> By the men they met at dance or chase,  
> In the tavern or the hall,  
> At the justice-bench and the market-place,  
> At the cudgel-play or brawl--  
> Of their own blood and speech and race,  
> Comrades or neighbours all!
> 
> More bitter than death this day must prove  
> Whichever way it go,  
> For the brothers of the maids we love  
> Make ready to lay low  
> Their sisters sweethearts, as we move  
> Against our dearest foe.
> 
> Thank Heaven! At last the trumpets peal  
> Before our strength gives way.  
> For King or for the Commonweal--  
> No matter which they say,  
> The first dry rattle of new-drawn steel  
> Changes the world to-day!


	39. Imperial Interest

“The best leaders inspire by example. When that’s not an option, brute intimidation works pretty well, too.”

/oOo\

The Emperor sat stolidly on his throne as the Shogun that ostensibly served at his pleasure rose to a kneeling position from his obeisance. The Shogun looked wary in spite of his long experience at maintaining a calm exterior, and reasonably so — people were not usually summoned to the Imperial Palace by a full squad of the Emperor’s Hands in the _very_ early morning. The number of Hands was actually more disturbing than the late hour; usually only one was assigned a particular duty, depending on the moral authority of whom he represented to enforce obedience.

Of course, the Emperor was having his own trouble maintaining his composure — though in his case, he was fighting to keep a grin that belonged on some monster from the ocean depths from spreading across his face. In spite of the risks what he was about to do posed to both the future power of the emperor and his own life, he was looking forward to the upcoming ‘discussion’. He glanced out of the corner of his eyes at the same bland, nondescript Hand (currently dressed in the robes of a palace slave, his collar marked with the Imperial seal) that had reported to him after the auction where Ranma was sold. The Emperor remembered his thoughts at the time of the Empire as a garden. Returning his attention to the man waiting for him to begin, he thought, _I am going to_ enjoy _trimming this outgrowth back._

He simply sat and gazed at the man whose presence he had demanded for a few minutes, as the Shogun grew more and more tense. Finally, the Emperor broke the silence. “They tell me,” he said nonchalantly, “that you are again preparing to intervene in Nerima.”

At this, the Shogun relaxed, confident this time in the security of his position. “Yes, your Majesty,” he replied, seeming to actually inflate with assumed importance. “The people of Nerima have risen against their lawful lord, and from the reports _I_ have received he is dead. Order must be restored and the guilty punished, lest their example breed more such uprisings.”

_So confidence makes you self-righteous, does it?_ “But my own reports make it clear that the so-called uprising is already over, the mobs that burned the government offices and slave center, invaded the Kuno estate and surrounded the law enforcement headquarters dispersed, and the estate guarded by a contingent of your own domestic crowd control forces. And have you received a request for your intervention from the Family that is sovereign in Nerima?”

“What Family?” the Shogun replied. “The only surviving member of the Kuno Family is an eighteen year old girl known only for her rampant cheating in rhythmic gymnastics martial arts competitions and how many men and women she has taken to her bed, both serially and simultaneously. She is incapable of dealing with the situation her Family’s lording finds itself in.”

“I don’t believe the laws governing the Shogun’s intervention in local affairs makes any reference to the competence of the resident noble,” the Emperor said thoughtfully, then twitched his shoulders. “Not that it matters, the Family currently sovereign over Nerima is no longer Kuno, it is Meioh.”

The Shogun stared, his voice rising in shock. “What?! When ... ? Who ... ?”

“ ‘Who’ is Meioh Setsuna, a fashion designer whose name your wives and daughters — and accountants, to their regret — will be familiar with, even if you are not. ‘When’ was within the last several hours. She was in Nerima when the so-called uprising took place, and decisively intervened. Afterwards she asked Kuno Kodachi if she would accept adoption into her family, and Kuno-san agreed. Meioh-dono called to request my acceptance of her elevation to nobility and I provisionally did so, so as to give her the authority to take those immediate actions necessary to stabilize the lording pending her appearance here for her official recognition as head of the Empire’s newest Family.”

The Shogun settled back, silent for long moments. _Undoubtedly calculating the shift in the political winds, as best he can when he doesn’t know the new Lady,_ the Emperor thought. _At least he’s competent in_ this _arena ... unfortunately. If he wasn’t, I could have discharged him years ago._

“Very well,” the Shogun finally said. “As order has been restored, I will hold off intervention until an investigation into the night’s events can be carried out. But if it reveals what I expect, I _will_ intervene to see justice done if Meioh-dono does not. Such an assault on a member of the nobility by his own people cannot be tolerated.”

“Of course,” the Emperor replied blandly, “and here is what your investigation will find. Daichi?”

As naturally as if the name was the one he’d been born with, Egami glided forward to offer the Shogun a memory stick pulled from a hidden pocket in his robes.

The Shogun accepted the memory stick without taking his suddenly hard eyes from his Emperor.

“The memory stick has all the details,” the Emperor continued, “but I will summarize. Your investigators will find that Kuno-dono ordered the kidnapping of a girl of the samurai class whose attentions he had been unable to secure through legitimate means, as well as an assault on her family resulting in the death of her fiancé’s father and the maiming of his mother. Kuno-dono also had his people kill several of that family’s allies with a bomb, as well as a presently unknown number of innocent bystanders that were also his own subjects. That as a result his outraged subjects rioted, resulting in the destruction of several government buildings. Furthermore, that under cover of the riot one of the Kuno Family’s numerous enemies launched an assault on that Family’s estate, resulting in the deaths of Kuno-dono and a number of Family retainers. Unfortunately, there will be no video footage able to identify any of the rioters, and the mansion’s attackers were ronin.”

He paused, waiting for a moment as his dumbstruck Shogun struggled for words, then continued. “As a result of these events, you are going to issue a series of new laws.” Egami pulled another memory stick from his robes and handed it to the Shogun. The Emperor said, “The new laws will limit the amount that can be bid on a debt slave to the amount of the debt, with time value factored in; eliminate the automatic assumption of an individual’s debt by his family; limit voluntary assumption of debts to adults; eliminate the power of the nobility to demand immediate full payment of debts from anyone that is not subject to them; prevent the holder of a debt from bidding in the debt auction; and revoke the law banning foreign majority ownership of businesses headquartered within the Empire that you instituted after Americorp acquired the Kaima Clan holdings.”

“But ... but there’s almost no connection between most of those laws and what happened in Nerima, and even less between the findings Your Majesty is demanding my investigators produce!” the Shogun protested. “Do you really expect people to believe it?”

The Emperor twitched another shrug. “Most commoners will believe it,” he said nonchalantly. “I suspect the more astute commoners, most of the samurai and all the nobility will believe that our newest Lady paid you a massive bribe — the amount Meioh-dono bid on Ranma-san at the auction a few weeks ago actually makes it possible.” Pausing thoughtfully, he considered for a moment, then added, “But I believe you are right about the new laws needing a _bit_ more relevance. Include another making it treason against the Empire for a noble Family or Clan to launch an assault on the home estate of another Family or Clan — and so punishable by the crucifixion of the lord or daimyo, the selling of his family into permanent slavery, and the reversion of all his holdings to the Emperor. My people will have the details for you later today.” _After we’ve let a few hours go by, to hide the fact that they’re already written up._ The Emperor again hid a vicious smile — he was beginning to truly understand just why his fractious nobles enjoyed their Great Game so much.

The Shogun stared at his Emperor in shock, then straightened, expression firming. “No, this is unacceptable. The position of Shogun cannot be smeared with such false assumptions — when new laws are issued, they cannot be seen as being at the behest of one faction or another. The Emperor may have the responsibility of ensuring that the nobility and my people obey the laws, but the responsibility of determining what those laws are is _my_ responsibility and I will not be dictated to!”

For long moments the Emperor fought to keep from laughing, the time lengthened by the mix of self-satisfaction and faux-moral outrage on the Shogun’s face. When he was again certain of his control over his expression and voice, he nodded to Egami. The disguised Hand again reached into his robes to produce a third memory stick. The Emperor said, “I am pleased that you are concerned with the reputation of your position. Then you should have no objections if I release the details of the payment made to you by Kuno-dono’s Master of Servants, seeking your intervention after the Saotomes involved themselves in the raid on the otokodate slavers. True, you returned the payment after our meeting when I made it clear that I would judge such an intervention to be contrary to current law, and those details are also included. Still, such behavior raises doubts as to your impartiality. I would have no choice but to ask for your resignation from your position as Shogun in order to uphold the integrity of the office.” _And the shame of your dismissal would mandate your death by seppuku to cleanse the honor of your Clan._

The Shogun blanched, mouth moving silently as he tried to respond, then bowed to the floor as the Emperor rose from his seat. The Emperor bowed his head slightly. “I will await the report of your investigators by the end of the week.”

The Shogun rose at the abrupt dismissal and stumbled from the room.

As the door closed behind him, Egami returned to the Emperor’s side. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmured. “You aren’t usually so blunt in your threats.”

“Yes, well, the people I normally deal with aren’t so certain that they are untouchable,” the Emperor replied wryly. “The increased security is in place?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, I checked as soon as the reports from Nerima started coming in tonight. Do you really believe it will be necessary?”

“Absolutely,” The Emperor replied. “I know it has been long centuries, but don’t forget there was a time that assassinating emperors was a standard political tool. If the Shogun is sufficiently offended, or any of the more powerful Houses conclude that I’ve decided to involve myself in the Great Game instead of merely acting as referee, those days may return.”

“True,” Egami reluctantly agreed, then chuckled. “At least those new laws will have the plantation owners screaming, considering their abuse of multi-generational debt slavery — especially the South Asian and Hawaiian planters.”

“Yes, the thought of their howls of protest helped make my decision to involve myself an easier one,” the Emperor agreed with a wry smile as he sat back down on his throne. “Bring in Meioh-san.”

/\

At the sound of a clearing throat, Kodachi glanced up from the tablet she was trying to read (and failing, in part due to nerves and in part because of the constant ache from ankle and ribs) to find a bland, utterly forgettable man, one of the palace slaves, standing in the doorway.

“The Emperor is ready for you now,” the servant intoned.

“Thank you,” Setsuna replied from where she sat beside her new heir. Rising to her feet, she turned to help Kodachi stand, something made more difficult by the formal kimonos they both wore. She made sure the teenager was securely on her crutches before she turned back to the slave.

The slave bowed obsequiously. “Forgive me, my lady, but the Emperor wishes to speak to your heir alone.”

Setsuna’s eyebrows rose, but she nodded to the slave before smiling reassuringly at the suddenly stiff Kodachi. “I’m sure His Majesty simply wishes to be assured that you haven’t accepted my offer under duress, you’ll be fine,” she assured her.

Kodachi nodded jerkily and followed slowly after the slave. _Remember, fear whatever Deity is out there, and no one else._

By the time she reached the room where the Emperor sat waiting, she was shaking. Her ankle throbbed, every swing forward on her crutches sent spikes of pain shooting through her from her tightly bound ribs, and she was beginning to wonder if refusing to accept more medication for the pain after she’d learned who she would be seeing had been such a good idea.

She maneuvered herself to face the Emperor, ignoring the slave hovering at her elbow, but as she started to kneel for her obeisance the Emperor spoke.

“Please, no need for that. At this time of night we can skip the formalities. Daichi, fetch her a chair.”

The slave hastily brought over one of the chairs against the walls, then again hovered as Kodachi carefully eased herself down.

Once she was settled and the slave stepped back, the Emperor asked, “Meioh-san, just how serious are your injuries?”

“Thank you for your concern, Your Majesty. A sprained ankle and several broken ribs, nothing serious,” she replied, bowing in her seat as well as the tight bandages around her torso permitted. “I will be fine.”

“I am happy to hear it. And Ranma and Akane, did he and his fiancée come through the night unscathed? Will you be able to unlock Ranma’s curse?”

Kodachi’s eyes widened — he _knew_ about Ranma! She stuttered slightly before getting her voice under control. “Ranma and Akane both came through the night physically unharmed,” she replied. She wondered for a moment whether she should add that Ranma was currently being kept unconscious by intravenous drip until his mother could be present, but decided against it. She continued,“We don’t know if or when his curse can be unlocked. The only person that might know who survived the night is currently at the hospital with a severe concussion. Once she manages to escape the doctors’ clutches I am certain she will tell us.”

The Emperor chuckled slightly. “I will ask Meioh-dono to give me an update when you know more,” he said. Sobering, he gazed at the teenager for a long moment, until she was fighting to keep from squirming in her seat. Finally, he said softly, “Kodachi, while Meioh-dono’s offer to you is as brilliant as it is unprecedented, it means that your Family’s name will vanish from our history. Most Clans and Families would rather go down fighting than surrender their identity. Is this truly your will? You are not under any kind of duress?”

Without hesitation, Kodachi shook her head. “No, Your Majesty, there is no duress. In truth, I found the decision an easy one to make. The Kuno Family has destroyed enough lives, my father wholesale and I and my brother retail — the world is better off without us.”

“No,” the Emperor disagreed instantly, “while you are certainly right about your father and arguably so about your brother, I believe you will yet make your mark on the world, and a positive one — even if under a different name.”

“I thank you.” Kodachi bowed her head, as much to hide her blush as politeness. Then her blush turned fiery with mortification as she failed to suppress a jaw-cracking yawn.

The Emperor waved off her stammered apology. “It is early, and you have had a long day and night. But my discussion with Meioh-dono shouldn’t take long, and then you can seek out your bed. Daichi, escort Meioh-san to a couch where she can rest until then.”

/\

Setsuna forced herself not to straighten, not to take a deep breath, to keep her expression under control as she walked into the meeting room to find the Emperor seated on a small throne. While he had provisionally accepted her ascension to lordship (ladyship?), it was just that — provisional. She didn’t think he would rescind his decision — the result would almost certainly be catastrophic for the Kuno holdings and so for the Empire — but a single bad misstep and it could all collapse.

Stopping at the distance prescribed by tradition, she knelt and bowed, waiting for the Emperor’s permission to sit back on her heels. She waited in the silence as her nerves vibrated like plucked strings.

Finally, the Emperor spoke. “The analysts I woke up when you called are impressed. While their conclusions are tentative at best, based on what we’d already learned and the few facts that have come in so far of tonight’s events, it’s fairly clear that you knew what was coming and positioned yourself to intervene. What they can’t figure out is how you did it — you would have to have intelligence sources for whoever organized the Neriman uprising, whoever arranged for the street samurai assault, and within the Kuno household itself. Not to mention a great reservoir of the blessings of the kami to draw upon in order for everything to fall out just as it did, when it did.

“But then, most of my analysts aren’t aware of the Shadow World, or the part you play in it — both as organizer of disparate defenders against major threats and as manager of your own little band of Magical Girls. Were you aware that the Imperial Household is able to detect and differentiate magical signatures?” He paused for a long moment, then smiled thinly as Setsuna sat frozen in place, gaping. “I see you did not. My people reported that your Magical Girls were responsible for preventing a number of the attacks on Kuno holdings.”

He leaned back slightly, a hint of relaxation in his posture. Even as her mind raced, considering the implications of the Imperial Household’s unexpected capability, Setsuna found herself relaxing in turn even though she knew his kinesthetic cue was deliberate. After a moment, the Emperor continued, “Until now, you have concerned yourself solely with your fashion lines, investments, and protecting the Empire from supernatural threats. Why the change?”

“Because we are at a cusp point,” Setsuna answered instantly, her face once again under control. “For centuries, humanity has mostly been drifting, war after war piling up death and misery with almost no improvement except in technology. That was bad enough when we had advanced to the point that we could destroy entire civilizations, but the latest advances are giving us the capability to destroy humanity entirely — even possibly by accident. This cannot continue.”

“So ... you act for the good of the Empire?”

“Of humanity,” Setsuna corrected, “and for the Empire as much as that permits. It _is_ my home, after all.”

“And your team of Magical Girls?”

“Will be involved in the Great Game only in the most extreme of circumstances or for personal reasons. Not only are they needed for the supernatural threats to the Empire and its people, but the last thing I want is for the other noble Houses to begin seeking out magical cannon fodder of their own — street samurai, high end martial artists and wild talents are bad enough already.”

“I am very glad to know you realize that,” the Emperor said.

He fell silent, gazing at the emerald-haired woman kneeling before him for long minutes, before finally nodding. “Very well, I confirm your ascension to the status of Lady by virtue of your adoption of the last survivor of a noble House. My people will include it with this morning’s news releases, and I will accept your formal fealty in ... say, one week. That should give you enough time to get at least the preliminaries settled for your new position.

“And now that that is decided, I spoke with Kodachi about Ranma, and she informed me that you do not yet know what will be needed to unlock his curse. Let my people know if there is anything I can do to help and keep me updated as to his status regardless. Is there anything I can do to aid your transition?”

Setsuna’s shoulders slumped slightly as relief washed through her — it was finally _really_ done. She drummed one set of fingers on a knee as she fought back a yawn, then nodded. “The biggest help right now would be if the Imperial Army continued to guard the Kuno — the Meioh installations where it is currently stationed. The unsettled situation, along with the addition of my own security to what the Kunos already had, should do for the rest until I can see to the sale of those properties that exceed our capabilities to defend....”

/\

Egami returned from escorting Meioh-dono and her heir to their transportation home (and providing occasional discreet aid to the exhausted Kodachi along the way), his obsequious manner falling away like a discarded cloak as soon as he was alone in the room with the Emperor. He strolled over to join his sovereign in looking out a window at the nighttime, shadow-haunted garden below.

Without preamble, the Emperor asked, “So, what did you think of Meioh-dono?”

Egami took time to consider everything he’d seen and heard before he finally answered. “Confusing. In person, I found her on the verge of treasonous and more softhearted than her activities in the Shadow World and the coup she pulled off tonight would indicate.  Certainly, her request that any Imperial charges against the Hibiki boy be dropped is understandable, he’s a magnificent tool if you can direct him — and she’s clearly managed it, somehow. But her request for your people to provide her with a list of residents of Juuban that were sold into debt slavery because of the previous Kuno-dono’s economic assault, and her desire to use the proceeds from her sale of excess Kuno — formerly Kuno — holdings to pay for their freedom is less explicable.

“And then, there’s her near treason in putting the good of the world over the good of the Empire. That kind of universalism always indicates a descent into fuzzy-minded sentimentalism.”

The Emperor chuckled. “Her plan for Juuban does have its practical side — certainly, they will give her an unequaled reputation among the commoners,” he disagreed. “Your distaste for the Christians may be clouding your judgment a little.”

“Well ... perhaps,” Egami reluctantly agreed, “though at least our Shinto Christian variety of that superstition is rendered mostly harmless by their pacifism, and I’ll admit their missionaries are a great help in the holdings we took away from Dar al-Islam.”

“Nor are Christians the only universalists,” the Emperor added. “While Amaterasu rightly favors her children, Kannon pays no heed to the origins of those she helps.”

Egami turned to stare at his liege,shaken by the hint of ... respect? ... in his leige’s voice. “Surely you don’t believe Meioh-dono is an incarnation of Kannon!”

The Emperor shook his head without looking away from the garden. “No, from all we know of her involvement in the defense of the Empire — and the rest of the world, apparently — along with what she allowed to happen tonight, she’s much too ruthless for that sweet, gentle kami of mercy. But I wouldn’t be surprised to learn she is her sister.”

Taking a deep breath, the Emperor turned from the window to face his Hand. “Meioh-dono is to be given free rein and supported when it is possible to do so discreetly, but until I say otherwise she is to be a primary focus of the Household — both normal intelligence and supernatural investigations. And redouble our efforts to break the protection against scrying on her Magical Girls, see if we can finally learn who they are.” The Emperor chuckled wryly when his Hand’s eyebrows climbed. “A bit much for a woman I’ve just said I trust, I know, but tonight she has made herself a Power in the Empire — perhaps _the_ Power, and in more than one area. And that means the stakes are too high for me to not make all necessary precautions, seeing how our Shogun is useless for anything but maintaining his position and raking in the bribes.

“Now update the standing orders, and get what sleep you can for what’s left of the night. I suspect the rest of the day — and the weeks to follow — will be busy enough to make the few extra hours worthwhile.”

Egami bowed and left, and the Emperor again looked out at what little could be seen in the nighttime shadows of the neatly kept garden for a few more minutes before turning away to seek his own bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote at the beginning of the chapter comes from Despair.com's build-your-own Disincentive calendars, the entry for Arrogance.
> 
> And that part about a time when Japanese emperors were routinely assassinated is very much historical, in the centuries up to at least 600 to 700 A.D. if not later — since anyone of the Sun line could serve as emperor (or empress), the standard way for the ambitious that weren't of that line to gain control of the state was to assassinate whoever currently held the throne and install their own puppet. There's a story of one such intended puppet who, on learning that a group of armed retainers were coming to grant him this ‘honor’, took to his heels and was never seen or heard from again.


	40. Better Days

“So it was a complete fiasco,” Gendo said, face expressionless as he gazed across his work desk at Katsuragi Misato.

His officer in charge of the Ikari Clan’s black operations nodded where she stood, carefully not wiping at the sweat beading her forehead. “Yes, my lord, it was. Our people barely made it over the estate wall before they were cut down and attacked from behind, and were unable to remove the communications equipment from their dead before leaving and so making it impossible to claim they were members of the mob.”

“I see.” Gendo gazed sternly at his subordinate over steepled fingers for long minutes. “And to what do you attribute our failure?”

She hesitated for a brief moment, before her shoulders slumped with a sigh. “In all likelihood, we’re compromised,” she reluctantly admitted. “Meioh-san — Meioh-dono, now — had her hired guns in place well before the attack started. And an impressive group of ‘hired guns’ they were, too, a unit of the Shogun’s own crowd control — even if the Kuno retainers hadn’t somehow maneuvered to attack our ronin from the rear, the issue would have been settled when the mini-tanks showed up.”

“I agree.” Gendo maintained his hard gaze for another long moment, before twitching his shoulders in a faint hint at a shrug. “And that is why we’ve come out ahead.” He smiled thinly as Katsuragi visibly fought not to sag where she stood, then pointed to the seat beside her and waited until she settled into it to continue. “Our lost assets are some Kuno arms that would lose most of their value as soon as Meioh-dono begins putting her own mark on her security’s weaponry, and some reliable but easily replaced ronin, all in an operation that was a hasty toss of the dice anyway. In return, we have learned of the existence of a probable mole among our people. Do you believe that mole is likely to know of our long term plans for the now-Meioh Family?”

“I do not believe so,” Katsuragi answered slowly, silently noting that their vendetta against the Kuno Family was still on, in spite of the change of Name. “This operation was purely military, and mercenary at that. I have been reviewing which of our people knew enough about the Nerima operation to supply Meioh-dono with the details, and who they regularly come into contact with, and there is no overlap between the two operations other than the two of us that I can find.”

Gendo considered the raven-haired woman’s statement, then nodded. “Good enough for now, though I will want to review the relevant records later myself. So, I am sure you must have some preliminary proposals for how we smoke out the mole.”

/\

Almost an hour later, Gendo watched the door to his office close behind his departing black operations officer. As soon as he heard the door latch click into place he jerked to his feet, knocking his office chair back. Ignoring the chair careening across the room, he strode to the window of one-way glass and snarled out at the mid-morning view of his wife’s ancestral estate as he hammered his fist against the wall, then again. _We could have had it all! A little luck with the street samurai, we had everything ready to go to take advantage of the sudden power vacuum, and then that common-born_ bitch _had to interfere!_

Sucking in one shuddering breath after another, he slowly fought down his raging anger-filled hate until he finally brought his expression back under control, then turned back toward his desk. _This isn’t even a setback. In a few years the Plan will come to fruition, and I will be the guiding power of a united Empire, ready to begin the process of bringing peace and order to the world — and the last blood of the man that shattered Yui’s spirit and killed our children will be blotted away._

Pulling back the seat he’d knocked away, he sat and reached underneath to press the button that brought up the desk’s monitor and slid the cover away from his keyboard. _But it seems that Meioh-dono may be setting herself up as an obstacle to both my goals, so let’s see just what assets she has available._

/oOo\

Nabiki strode past the slave that had escorted her through the maze that was the Kuno mansion into the conference room, and slammed to a stop at the sight that greeted her. When the call had found her at the hospital asking her and Xian Pu to attend Nerima’s new Lady to discuss Ranma’s future, she had expected to find herself joining Kodachi and worried that the last surviving Kuno was reverting to type and intended to keep Ranma for herself — it could even be said to be reasonable, considering the hit the Kuno finances would take from an early complete payment of what the Kuno Family owed ‘Ranko’, thanks to that _insane_ auction.

But while Kodachi was indeed waiting for her in the well-lit room (the Kuno retainers had overridden her little virus faster than Nabiki had expected), she wasn’t alone, nor was she occupying the seat at the head of the long conference table. The emerald-haired woman sitting in the room’s pride of place was pale, baggy-eyed from lack of sleep — and instantly recognizable to any Japanese that closely followed the business news feeds. Nabiki’s mind raced for reasons for the fashion mogul’s presence and seating arrangement, and came up with an incredible but obvious answer.

As the last surviving Amazon in Nerima stepped around her, Nabiki bowed. “Meioh ... -san? This is a surprise.”

Setsuna motioned to the seats to her left, across the table from Kodachi. “As it seems you’ve guessed, it’s Meioh-dono now, the announcement from the Imperial Palace has already been sent to the Houses and should be hitting the news feeds at any time. Nabiki, Xian Pu, please sit.” As the two teenagers took the indicated chairs, she continued, “Anything new at the hospital?”

“No, not since Kuno-dono’s ... since your people first found us,” Nabiki replied. “Nodoka is still under observation after the operation to reattach her hand, and Kasumi is still sleeping off her sedation. Ranma and Akane?”

“Still the same, Ranma under sedation waiting until his mother can be there when we wake him up. Akane apologizes for not being here but she doesn’t want to leave his side, even if Usagi would still be with him. I’ll have someone take you to her when we’re done here.”

Shifting her attention to Xian Pu, Setsuna said, “Xian Pu, I am sorry for your loss. I know there is nothing that can replace your great-grandmother and friend, but if there is anything I can do to help, please let me know.”

Xian Pu stiffened, face twisting with angry grief. After taking a moment to get herself back under control, she nodded jerkily, then winced. “Shampoo do that. Why Shampoo here? Should be with Nodoka and Kasumi.” _Guarding them, seeing how their current guards were trying to kill them just a few hours ago,_ she didn’t add but Nabiki heard anyway.

Setsuna seemed to hear it as well, and a crooked smile crossed her face. “This won’t take long, at least for you,” she assured the Amazon. “It’s about Ranma’s curse. Am I correct in assuming that whatever is needed to unlock it was at the Cat Café when it was destroyed?”

Shampoo nodded. “Is true, everything there. Shampoo know everything needed, but some very very rare. Only place Shampoo know where found is home, and Shampoo maybe not welcome there now, death of great-grandmother too too big blow to village and it because of Shampoo Kiss of Marriage.”

“That will not be a problem,” Setsuna said firmly. “I’ll see to it that you have an escort from both Meioh Security and the Imperial Army, and blood price for the loss of Mu Tse and an elder of Ku Lon’s standing, doubled for the treacherous way they were murdered. Perhaps also an offer of alliance and employment would be welcome? I could certainly use warriors of your people’s caliber and honor, and I imagine Nyucheizu could use the foreign currency.”

“That matter for Council,” Xian Pu answered shortly, then sighed and gave a (this time careful) nod of respect to the older woman. “But Shampoo grateful for help, maybe able go home.”

“It is the least I can do after all you have lost. Let me know when you are ready to return to Nyucheizu and I’ll make arrangements.”

Xian Pu hesitated for a moment, then added, “Meioh-dono understand, unlock maybe not work? Sometimes yes, but too too often no.”

Setsuna nodded. “I understand. We do the best we can, and what happens happens.”

Shifting her focus back to Nabiki, she continued, “Nabiki, I know Ranma will have to give his approval once he is awake, but I thought we could have a preliminary discussion of his future.”

Nabiki shrugged. “Why me? I’d think Akane would be the one you want to talk to, if you want to influence what Ranma does with his life.”

“Normally yes, but in this case I want to discuss his future _legal_ status, and for that I believe you are the best choice.”

Carefully keeping herself from stiffening, Nabiki smiled tightly. “I see. Yes, I suppose I’m the best choice, at that. You are planning to free him?”

“Of course, it isn’t like I’ll be able to hold him now that Kuno-dono is dead. But there’s a problem.”

“The amount that Kuno bid for ‘Ranko’ at the auction?” Nabiki hazarded.

Setsuna nodded. “Yes. I know, I bid almost as much, but I have other uses for those funds, along with what I can bring in from selling excess holdings — I’ll be buying the freedom of as many of those forced into slavery during the Kuno hostile takeover of Juuban as I can, as well as providing them with a buffer until they can get back on their feet.”

Nabiki raised an eyebrow. “Very noble of you,” she said, a hint of mocking doubt in her voice. “I imagine that will do wonders for your reputation among the commoners. But yes, that _will_ take a good deal of cash, and dumping that many holdings on the market all at once is going to _really_ cut into what you can get for them if you’re trying to sell them in a hurry.” She grinned suddenly, a harsh, hungry grin. “You could just let me know what the present value of the total owed to Ranma is and I could use that to do some bidding of my own.”

Kodachi snorted laughter from where she sat as Setsuna raised an eyebrow of her own. “Unfortunately, as I said, part of the reason I’m selling off that property now is in order to pile up _cash_ , not just relieve debt and overhead,” the emerald-haired woman said, then smiled. “But I believe you will like my counteroffer — all the Kuno plantations on the island of Hawaii.”

Nabiki froze, mind boggling. That was ... was ...

“I understand that the fair market value of those plantations is somewhat higher than the present value of what I owe to Ranma,” Setsuna continued, seeming oblivious to Nabiki’s shock, “though the total is likely lower than what you could purchase if you joined the bidding as you suggested. However, the plantations will also be centrally located and so easier to manage.”

 _And right at the edge of the Empire closest to the United States,_ Nabiki thought. She had spent hours at the hospital while waiting for word on Nodoka and watching over her sleeping older sister, thinking furiously the entire time about where to go from there — and Setsuna’s offer, both income and location, had just expanded the possibilities exponentially. _Of course, both plantations and income will belong to_ Ranma _, not me — well, ‘Ranko’, officially — but I don’t think he’ll mind the use I want to put them to...._ “As you said, I’ll have to run it by Ranma, but that would probably be acceptable,” she replied, then shrugged. “You can assume that he’ll go for it — unlike his father, money as such has never meant all that much to him. So long as his mother and my sisters are cared for, he isn’t going to care much about the details.”

“That is my impression as well,” Setsuna agreed. For a moment she leaned her elbows on the table and rubbed at her eyes, before straightening and pushing a button built into the table in front of her. A door behind her slid open, and several slaves stepped into the room. “Very well. Nabiki, Xian Pu, why don’t you two check in with Akane? Then, Nabiki, I can have the steward I’ve just inherited give you a quick overview of the plantations in question. You can go over the details at your leisure. Xian Pu, before you return to the doctors’ clutches as the hospital, make a list of the ingredients you need for unlocking Ranma. I have some connections of my own, you may not need to return to Nyucheizu for them.”

The two girls bowed, made their farewells, and rose to follow their new guides from the room.

/oOo\

Kino Makoto rose from her couch and turned off the wall-mounted monitor used for watching shows, then tossed the remote back to where she’d been sitting. The online news-stream from Nerima was long past hard news on the riots and stunning rise of a commoner to Head of the lording, and deep into speculation as to what those events meant. The only new news was the first partial list of the dead from the Cat Café explosion, and it seemed that there wasn’t going to be a similar list for the dead from the attack on her previous home of two years.

She briefly considered calling Ami again to see if she’d found Usagi, but decided against it. The call monitor at the Kuno — Meioh — estate remembered Makoto and had been kind enough to locate Ami where she was helping with the clean-up and connect her before, but now that Makoto knew her friend was unharmed the call monitor wasn’t likely to be as understanding. And if Ami _had_ been able to find Usagi, the somewhat ditzy blonde would have already called, falling all over herself to apologize for not calling earlier and making Makoto worry about her.

Fresh tears spilled down the brunette’s grief-roughened cheeks, determination crystallizing as she remembered the images of the burned out lording government offices and auction center, and the bodies strewn across the Kuno — Meioh — estate lawn, the call from Haruka, of all people, gently advising her not to visit the Hikawa Shrine that day because the rest of the Senshi would be there celebrating a good man’s death. Striding into her bedroom, she pulled the suitcase she’d been given along with her freedom and started tossing in her clothes without a care for neatness or wrinkles. She’d be taking her phone with her, after all, Ami could call her with news of Usagi wherever she was.

“Going somewhere?”

Makoto whirled to find Sailor Pluto standing in the doorway, the black-and-white fukued woman leaning on the Garnet Staff. Instantly, Makoto’s henshin wand was in her hand, lifting over her head — and she froze as Pluto shifted, straightening and lifting her staff to point it toward her. There was no way she would have time to transform before Pluto could respond, and even the weakest Dead Scream she had seen would be enough to blow her across the room, through the window and into the street — four stories above street level.

She stood there frozen in place for a long minute, before relaxing. She turned to place the wand on her dresser and resumed packing. “You can have that back, I won’t be needing it anymore.”

“Keep it, it’s yours even if you aren’t working for me,” Pluto said quietly. “Where are you going?”

Makoto glanced over to find the Senshi of Time again leaning on her staff. “Anywhere but here,” she replied shortly.

“You haven’t been working in the hospital kitchen long enough for it to matter to other employers, how are you going to make a living?”

“If I can’t find anything else, I’ll just have to go back to whoring — it worked for me for the last two years with Kuno-dono, after all.”

Pluto sighed. “It isn’t the same, you _know_ that.”

Makoto slammed the suitcase shut and whirled around. “What do you care?!” she shouted, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks as she shook with the effort to keep from throwing herself across the room at the emerald-haired woman. “You got what you wanted, your title, your _power_ by stepping over a good man’s dead body, now go away and leave me alone!”

Pluto simply gazed levelly at her for a long moment, then said, “Would you consider waiting to leave until after Kuno-dono’s funeral? You should be there, and Usagi could really use the company.”

“Usagi? You know about Usagi? Is she all right?”

“Of course I know,” Pluto said, “she was right in the middle of that ... mess. Physically she’s fine, emotionally she’s a wreck. Will you attend the funeral? I think you and Usagi may have been the only people in the world to actually love him.”

“I ... I ...” Makoto wavered, anger at Pluto briefly warring inside her with concern for her friend and memories of her former master, then quickly nodded. “All right, I’ll stay that long.”

“Thank you. I’ll let you know when it is as soon as the arrangements are made, and send someone to pick you up.” Pluto hesitated for a moment, then added, “Afterwards, ask Usagi what happened, _how_ it came to happen — she might feel better to talk it out with someone else that actually cared about Kuno-dono, and you might rethink your decision to leave.”

She stepped over and picked up the discarded henshin wand. “I’ll hold onto this for you until you want it back, whether you stay with us or not.” Without another word, she turned and walked out of the bedroom.

Makoto watched her leave, wiped at wet cheeks, then turned around to empty her suitcase of the clothes she had just finished stuffing into it. It seemed she was going to have to get ready for her shift at the hospital kitchen, after all.

/\

As soon as she was out of sight of the bedroom, Pluto _stepped_ to the Time Gates and sagged in relief, leaning on her staff — that had been _too_ close, another fifteen minutes, and Makoto would have been out the door, Pluto would have had to chase her down, and she had no idea when she would have found a big enough block of time in the rest of the day to get away from her new minders.

As it was, she’d used the need to get to her old business office and secure her data from the inevitable hacking attempts by the _really_ big guns now that she’d moved into the major leagues as an excuse. And from what she’d found before making the excuse of visiting the washroom to get away from her new bodyguards and make this little side trip, she was a little late (not that she’d kept anything not business related on those particular machines).

 _And I used up just about as much time as I could afford with my little talk with Makoto,_ she thought, straightening with a sigh, before reverting to her business casual-dressed civilian form. For a moment she eyed the Gates, considering taking the time to check what the likely future might be, but finally shook her head. The same reasoning that held when she’d passed through on her way to see Makoto still held now — she’d taken a quick glance to see that a future was now visible, the cusp point was past, but she had too much to do over the rest of the day and into the night. Whether the news was good or bad, she could not afford to be shaken up emotionally while taking the reins. _And it isn’t like what you see would make a difference over the rest of the day, anyway — your new responsibilities are what they are, whatever the future might bring won’t change that._

But as she _stepped_ back to her corporate office’s washroom, she resolved yet again that as soon as her immediate fires were put out she was going to do the deep background checks on her new retainers as only she could do to learn which could be trusted with her double life and add them to the bodyguard detail she already had, and recreate her buffer against the rest of the world.

/oOo\

Nabiki tried to ignore her rising tension as she walked past the patrolwoman guarding the front gate to the Tendo dojo (noting distantly that apparently her call to the lording law enforcement from the hospital had produced _some_ effect). She couldn’t see where Ryoga had blown out the outside wall but she could feel it, sending shivers down her spine as she remembered — Nodoka rolling across the floor, tangled up with a ninja; her kicking the ninja off of the Saotome matriarch, and crawling out from under the desk where she’d been hiding; the thunder of Kasumi’s gunshots mixed in Nabiki’s mind with the roaring explosion of Ryoga’s ki attack; Nodoka beheading a ninja with her wakizashi even as her katana sailed toward the corner, her hand still gripping the hilt. And mixed in with it all the stench of violent death, like she’d never imagined.

Reaching the door, she found her hand shaking so hard she was unable to fit her key in the lock. She turned around to lean back against the door and slid down to sit in the entryway. _This is home!_ Our _home,_ she thought as she fought for control. _This is where we grew up, where mother and father died, where our children will be born and grow, and that is not going to be ruined just because a bunch of honor-blind bootlickers tried to kill us all here!_ Slowly she fought her shivering down, and finally stood and tried the lock again. This time, she was able to open the door and step inside her home.

She was instantly _very_ happy that Kasumi had stayed at the hospital. The middle Tendo had already been pleased with her older sister’s decision to stay at the sleeping Nodoka’s bedside — while Nabiki had been relieved when her sister had broken down after they were safe at the hospital (a Kasumi that could apparently shrug off gunning down three men would have had her seriously worried), the eldest Tendo’s hysterics had been extreme; it was just as well that Kasumi was with professionals for now in case it happened again. Now, the faint stench of death gave Nabiki a hint of what was coming and she was glad Kasumi wasn’t with her to see what was waiting for her.

/\

She had been right, it was bad — law enforcement had removed the bodies, but hadn’t cleaned up the drying blood and gore splattered liberally around the hallway and her room and soaked into her bed and the stench permeating the second floor was almost overpowering. She’d hastily grabbed her laptop and moved down to the family room, where the first thing she’d done after hooking up to the network connection (the power was back up as well, the lording’s maintenance people were suspiciously quick) was contact a cleaning service to remove her mattress and sheets and clean up the drying blood and gore, and a furniture company to deliver a new mattress. But the cleaning service wouldn’t arrive for an hour and the mattress until the cleaning service was finished, and she settled down cross-legged at the low table to review the reports from her team leaders of the previous night’s activities.

“I’m glad to see you made it through last night’s chaos.”

Nabiki shrieked as she rolled to the side, a hand scrabbling at her pocket for the revolver she’d taken from her sister and the laptop flying away as her flailing legs knocked over the table. She leaped to her feet with her back to the wall, and pointed the gun gripped by shaking hands at the intruder — then slumped in relief, gun dropping to hang by her side, and giggled hysterically at the sight of Juan de Oro stretched out flat on the hardwood floor as he held her computer up, keeping it from a disastrous collision with the same floor.

The Hispanic-Apache American chuckled as he rose to his feet. He righted the table and set down the laptop, then turned to face his host. “That’ll teach me to play the mysterious visitor with someone that has just been through a life-or-death struggle,” he commented ruefully in his flawless Japanese.

Nabiki sobered at the reminder of the previous night. Taking a deep breath, she stepped away from the wall. “Yes, it will,” she said shortly.

She knelt down and shut down the laptop, then rose and motioned for de Oro to follow her before leading him to the dojo. Inside, she opened a hidden panel and pressed a button, waited until a light flickered green and a faint hum filled the air, and turned to lean against the wall. “It’s safe to talk now, any bugs that might have been placed since last night will be useless. So, why are you here? Looking for an answer while I’m still in shock from last night?”

De Oro broke off looking around the dojo to refocus on the girl, and shrugged. “Now that you’re rich, or will be, it’ll be much harder to contact you discreetly in person — and before then, the Shogun’s investigators are going to be crawling all over this. Actually, I’m a little surprised I had as easy a time getting in here as I did. And I’m sure you’ve been considering my offer of membership in the Children of Israel since I first made it.”

“Yes, I have.” Nabiki gazed evenly at the crusader for a long moment as he calmly returned her regard, considering the ‘rich’ comment, before she mentally shrugged. _Don’t start thinking he’s omniscient,_ she warned herself, _it wouldn’t be_ that _hard to figure out._ She sighed and slid down the wall to sit cross-legged on the floor. “Sit,” she said, waving at a spot a few yards in front of her.

As de Oro sat, Nabiki considered, then slowly said, “If you had asked me yesterday morning, I would have said yes in a heartbeat. But I learned something about myself last night. In spite of my views on how corrupt, blind, stupid, and self-righteous our rulers are, I’m still samurai, unable to hide in a hole while others fight for my life. I doubt those others are ready to abandon the Empire and its Emperor even after this, so I can’t either — their fight is my fight. So, I’ll have to decline your offer. However, as you said I’m looking at a sudden windfall, and I’m not just going to sit back and let the system that killed my father and the rest go on its merry way, either. So, would you be satisfied with an ally?”

“An ally.” An eyebrow rose. “And who exactly would I be allying myself with?”

“The otokodate,” Nabiki replied, then chuckled as de Oro’s other eyebrow joined its partner. “Did you know the otokodate started out the same way as your Mafia, as supposed protectors of the common people from the abuses of the samurai? That was what their public relations said, anyway. I think it’s time for the otokodate throughout the Empire to return to their mythical roots — and what do you know, I have a lording right here that just had its resident otokodate wiped out, waiting for someone to step into the vacuum.”

De Oro nodded thoughtfully. “That is going to get seriously bloody once you expand beyond Nerima,” he mused, “and you’re going to be involving yourself in some rather ugly businesses.”

Nabiki shrugged. “Smuggling, prostitution, gambling, and protection rackets? Sure. But the gamblers will be honest, the prostitutes will be willing and their basic needs seen to, and the protection will be real — I think I’ll shut down the loan sharking. As for ‘bloody’, it’s a good thing that I’m starting in the lording with more and better martial artists than anywhere else in the world, isn’t it? And so many of them unemployed. I’ll have plenty of muscle, and recruit more as we expand — I suspect that not all of the otokodate are the scum of the earth, some will change their ways if given a chance. You can find romantics everywhere, even in the gutter.”

“True,” de Oro agreed. “So, if we are to be allies, just what do you bring to the table? I can’t imagine that you would be willing to strike directly against the worst masters or you would be joining us.”

Nabiki replied, “Offhand, two things. First, I’ll be shutting down the illegal slave trade in all areas I control. Considering what’s available through the _legal_ slave trade, the illegal variety basically caters to sexual perversions of some of the elites or get shipped out of the Empire, so that fits in nicely with my theme of defender of the common people. Second, since the payment Meioh-dono has offered Ranma — excuse me, _Ranko_ — to pay for _her_ freedom consists of Hawaiian plantations. How would you like a new conduit for smuggling escaped slaves out of the Empire and supplies and arms into it, for whatever guerilla forces you _do_ set up? For a fee, of course — I’ll be otokodate, after all — but a minor one. Ranma won’t stand for anything more than a token.”

De Oro’s jaw dropped in shock as he stared at her for a long moment before managing to recover his composure. “Yes, that is a ... substantial ... offer — generous, even. What can we offer in return? It sounds like you have everything covered.”

“Mostly, consider it my way of getting Ranma to go along with my plans. He’d be more comfortable with your people than who I’ll be hanging with, anyway,” Nabiki replied nonchalantly. “There is one thing, though, and fast ... I need at least one preacher, preferably a handful. Not too many to begin with, though, that would be too obvious.”

“Preachers,” de Oro repeated flatly.

Nabiki grinned at the wary tone. “Yup, I need Christian preachers to set up camp in first Nerima, then other lordings whose otokodate I bring under my control. And they have to be your variety — our Shinto Christians’ pacifistic streak doesn’t sit well with samurai, and the pacifists running the Underground Railroad aren’t much better. I don’t think pacifism is something your own preachers dabble in.”

“Not hardly,” de Oro replied with a snort. “No, they’re more into smiting the ungodly. I didn’t think you were a believer.”

Nabiki shrugged again. “I’m not, and to tell you the truth, Deus Vult makes me almost as nervous as Allahu Akbar. But what we — the Nerimans — just did ... there just isn’t room for it in our worldview. The occasional urban riot to protest injustice, sure. But even in the case of the Forty-seven Samurai, they attacked their dead lord’s enemy, not their own lord — and they turned themselves in and committed seppuku, afterward. To cold-bloodedly connive in the killing of their own lord, even if not sworn into his service, and then just walk away?” She shook her head. “Let’s try to avoid guilt trips and spontaneous confessions now that it’s over. Besides, it would make recruitment easier for the organization I’m going to be setting up.”

“So you want to offer them another worldview, that justifies their actions?” At Nabiki’s nod, de Oro chuckled. “And not even a religion you hold to yourself. It’s too bad you didn’t join us, your practical streak is just what we need.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a memory stick. “This will probably be the last time we meet in person. Give me access to a network, and I’ll set up an online contact link then be on my way.”

Nabiki nodded and rose, quickly turned off the dojo security, and led him back toward the house.

/oOo\

Akane sat alone beside the infirmary bed where the female form of her once and hopefully future lover lay sleeping, one hand gently stroking the soft, freshly cleaned red hair as she fought to sort out the maelstrom of emotions ripping through her: joy, anger, grief, rage, fear, jealousy, all mixed together.

It had all seemed so simple when Ranma finally laid out his plan to the family — Ranma would be locked, sold off, spend a week or so in Kuno’s bed until that nutcase found some excuse to try to grab Akane, use the Cat Fist to break the Adjustment and kill Kuno, get unlocked so ‘Ranko’ (mostly) disappeared, and they would live happily ever after.

Now it was weeks later than she’d expected, and they were alive and Kuno was dead. But so were Ukyo, Konatsu, Uncle Genma, Ku Lon and Mu Tse, Auntie Nodoka had lost a hand and they didn’t know yet if the reattachment would take, _Kasumi_ had killed at least two people and was in a drugged sleep after going into hysterics, and Nabiki had just called on the cell phone she’d left behind when she and Xian Pu visited to pass along that Daisuke was dead, shot by a Kuno ninja just as he was entering the mansion with the mob.

And earlier when Akane had asked how soon the curse could be unlocked, Xian Pu had reminded her that the answer might be never.

She broke off stroking the flame-red hair to gently clasp a still hand. _We really messed this one up, didn’t we, Ranma?_ What if the curse _didn’t_ unlock? What if her baby had two mommies instead of a daddy and a mommy? She had no problem imagining a redheaded Ranma helping raise their child. She could put up with everyone thinking she was a lesbian — it wasn’t like they were likely to get in her face about it, and if they did when _Ranma_ was around ... A grin flickered across Akane’s face at the thought and disappeared. She didn’t even have a problem imagining sharing a bed with Ranma, so long as they were just sleeping, but doing _that_ with the redhead? Every time Akane’s thoughts circled back to it, it made her queasy.

 _But you don’t have any problem thinking about_ Usagi _doing ‘that’ with Ranma, do you?_ she thought, the jealousy in her confused maelstrom roaring to life, shaking her where she sat as she remembered the long hours that the younger blonde had spent with her in this very room before being called away, sitting on the other side of the bed, holding Ranma’s other hand as she told Akane about Ranma’s time in the Kuno mansion and Akane told her stories about Ranma’s chaotic life. Certainly _Usagi_ didn’t have any problem thinking about doing ‘that’ with the redhead, if the lust that Akane thought she sensed mixed with Usagi’s love and concern was any indicator, when she spoke of the nights when Ranma had trouble sleeping and they’d shared a bed, or the fun of trying to help bathe a reluctant, squirmy redhead like a good body slave was supposed to. It just wasn’t fair! Just when Akane _finally_ had a clear field with her fiancé, another challenger showed up, and one that wasn’t going to push Ranma away by throwing herself at him.

 _Be fair, Akane,_ she thought to herself. _Remember, you’re the one that encouraged her to seduce Ranma when you were worried about his sanity. And if the lock_ is _permanent, will Ranma want to be celibate the rest of his life? Will_ you _? If he’s stuck as a girl he could do a lot worse than Usagi._

But Akane didn’t want to be fair, Ranma was hers!

Then Akane started in her seat as Usagi dropped back into the chair across the bed — the youngest Tendo had been so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed the younger girl come in. Usagi had the strangest look on her face, a mix of guilt, joyful wonder, and confused, desperate longing, and tears were running down her cheeks. The hand that reached out to stroke the sleeping Ranma’s cheek was shaking.

All jealousy vanished in an instant to be replaced by concern, and Akane asked, “Usagi, what’s wrong?”

Usagi looked up. “Nothing’s wrong, I’m free. I’m going home.”

“Free? Home?” Only now did Akane notice that the blonde wasn’t wearing her slave chain. Hesitantly, she said, “But Usagi, you don’t have a home, do you? Wasn’t it sold at the same time ...” _as your family,_ she choked back.

Usagi nodded, smiling shakily, wonder shining in her eyes. “Yes, it was, and I’ll miss it, but ‘home’ is people. Remember what Nabiki said about Meioh-dono’s plans? She decided to start with the Juuban slaves here in the mansion. Ami’s already gone back to her mother, and Meioh-dono’s bought and freed my parents and little brother and has an apartment in Juuban we can use until we’re back on our feet. I’ll be leaving to join them as soon as I say goodbye.”

She looked back down at Ranma and her eyes darkened. Finally, she bent down to softly kiss the sleeping redhead on the forehead, then straightened. “Could you give her this when she wakes up?” she asked, holding out her closed hand across the bed. Akane instinctively reached out, and Usagi spilled her slave chain into the Tendo’s palm. “In memory of what I hope were some good times mixed in with the bad, with her own little slave,” the blonde said, rising to her feet and wiping at her wet cheeks. “And now I have to get going, my family’s waiting. I know I don’t really need to ask, but take good care of her for me, please?”

Akane nodded, stunned speechless that a prospective fiancée was actually walking away. Usagi turned to stride toward the door as the other girl stared at her. _Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it, DAMN IT! Why does she have to be so nice?_ “Usagi!” Akane called out. When the blonde girl paused on her way through the door and turned around (stumbling slightly and catching herself on the doorframe), Akane said, “When you get settled, call us. We’re in the online listings.”

Usagi paled, eyes widening. “Do you _mean_ it?” she demanded.

Akane nodded. “Yes, I do. With Ranma’s father and friends dead he’ll need all the friends he has, and if it does turn out that we can’t unlock the curse, _she_ will need them even more.”

Usagi squealed as she threw herself back into the room, and Akane “uumphed” as the blonde landed in her lap and hugged her hard. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Usagi whispered in her ear.

Akane sighed and hesitantly returned the hug. “You’re welcome,” she replied. “Now go, your family’s waiting for you.”

Now smiling brightly, Usagi bounced off her lap and almost skipped out the door. _I don’t believe this,_ Akane thought as she watched the younger girl leave, _now I’m_ asking _them to stick around!_

/oOo\

Setsuna sighed in relief as she _stepped_ from her bedroom to the Time Gates. Of course it wasn’t going to be her bedroom for long and her security, beefed up by retainers that she had just inherited, were going to have a sleepless night covering a building not really up to Family security standards, but she’d been able to argue that the formerly-Kuno mansion wasn’t exactly secure at the moment, either. Tomorrow night she would be moved into her new Family estate — and have her new quarters swept for surveillance by people she already trusted. But for only the second time in the long night and day and now night again since the assault on the Kuno mansion, through the trip to Kyoto to see the Emperor and back, and the whirlwind of apparently-hasty decisions and planning, she’d managed to reach a location she _knew_ was surveillance-free. And this time, she’d finished at least the preliminaries of setting herself up as Lady; it was time to take a look at what the new future held. Then she could _finally_ fall into bed — empty, unfortunately.

 _Oh, quit whining. It isn’t like you haven’t already talked with Michiru and Haruka about how we can ‘coincidentally’ meet while you’re fixing Juuban, and have them end up moving in with you. Besides, as tired as I am, I doubt I’d even notice if the both of them were waiting completely naked and covered with whip cream._ But the warm bodies to snuggle up to would have been nice....

The emerald-haired woman shook herself out of her reverie, stretched (wincing slightly at the pops and crackles), transformed into her Senshi form, then leaned on the Garnet Staff and focused tired eyes on the Gates and began a review of the coming weeks and months.

_Let’s see, Ranma’s a bit of a mess, no surprise there, but the curse actually unlocks — eventually — and he has a lot of support this time; things look good with Ranma and Akane, a healthy baby girl; lots of tension between Akane and Usagi, but Ranma doesn’t see it, Usagi is giving them lots of space, and Akane isn’t physically attacking her, so I guess that side of things counts as a plus._   
  


_Oooh, Nabiki’s a busy little girl and scary as hell, beautiful._   
  


_Ami accepts her role as Sailor Mercury, Usagi as Princess Serenity, Makoto sticks around, good ... none of them trust me much, and they pull Venus in for their own little clique; good that they’re more independent and thinking for themselves — the Empire has no place for major players that trust unconditionally and think the world is a happy place — not so good that the Senshi are splitting into two camps, I think I’ll call that one a wash. I’ll have to come up with some way to bring everyone together while preserving that independent streak. Looks like the veil between us and the Others strengthens a bit, attacks are almost nonexistent, good, gives more time for training up our new recruits — ouch, that one looks nasty; the Princess handles it well, though, she’s certainly matured a lot. Hey, she’s actually training, fantastic — going for samurai status? Considering Ranma and Akane, I suppose that makes sense ... ? She’s really determined, too, that image is as crisp and clear as it gets — she’s going to make it happen, regardless._   
  


_No major attacks on my new holdings while I’m divesting myself of the excess, good, looks like the major players decided they could do better seeing what they could get at fire sale prices; some unrest on the plantations as the Emperor’s new rules for debt slavery kick in — yeah, having the inter-generational debt go away is scaring a lot of managers, and not being able to just re-buy the same workers year after year as fresh debt is called in is shuffling around the workforce, fun times ahead there. Ouch! Looks like Gendo’s making a move, I’ll have to short-circuit that without being obvious. Maybe use the illegal research we stopped the raid for, that Kuno-dono turned over to the Imperial Household as an excuse for a Family-wide crackdown?_   
  


_Okay, the Emperor’s stepped back into the shadows again, excellent, the last thing we need is to have everyone decide he’s just one more faction in the Great Game — the Empire would probably still tear itself apart, and take the rest of the world with it. And it seems the Great Houses have taken his hint and cooled things down a touch, even better, I can use that downtime to get some pre-positioning done. Looks like Dar al-Islam is up to something — okay, that was sneaky, looks like I’m going to need to invest some resources in southeast Asia and northern Mexico. Or maybe Chile or Argentina? Brazil? This could break up the Spanish Empire with a little luck. Have to keep India free and allied with the Empire, though. I’ll have to think about how to handle that mess, this could be the perfect opportunity to take some pieces off the board ... maybe I can combine laying the groundwork with shutting down Gendo’s operation — that could do it, blow up his intricate chess game, embarrass Dar al-Islam, undercut the plantation owners in southeast Asia, and draw the attention of the Emperor if not the Shogun to the initial battlefield all at once. Maybe, we’ll see._

/\

Long hours after her arrival Pluto again stretched, then ran through some quick limbering moves to loosen up, twisting her torso, spinning arms. The preliminary near-future overview was done, with a mental list of points to research more in depth after she’d had some rest. Now that the first skim was over and looking fairly decent, maybe she could sleep — after one last thing.

She picked up the Garnet Staff and straightened from touching the toes of her boots, then turned back to the Time Gates, and hesitated ... and pondered ... and hesitated some more. When she realized she’d been standing there staring at the Time Gates in neutral mode for almost an hour, she shook herself. _Come on, Setsuna, suck it up — whatever the future may be, it can’t be worse than it was. And refusing to look isn’t going to change it._

Sucking in a deep breath, she activated the Time Gates, bringing up a sharp, clear image of Edo from a distant angle, and pushed it forward farther and farther into the future. Then the image froze, the breath Pluto had been holding gusted out like she’d been punched, her legs failed and she dropped onto her butt. Pulling her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, she rocked in place with tears streaming down her face and stared at a sight she hadn’t seen in over five hundred years — the spires and towers of Crystal Tokyo. The image flickered, shivered, was hazy to the point of being barely recognizable, but her future was back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I came up with a number of titles for the last episode, following my regular habit of using poem and song titles: Everlast's “Saving Grace,” Anne Murray's “A Little Good News,” Maureen McGovern's “The Morning After,” Alison Krauss's “Get Me Through December,” Eastmountainsouth's “Show Me the River,” Kipling's poems “The Quest” and “The Hymn of Breaking Strain.” Then I heard an oddity on the radio, a Christmas song that was released on a regular album and playing in the middle of the year — “Better Days” by the Goo Goo Dolls.
> 
> Christmas is my favorite time of year, the whole Charlie Brown “peace on earth, good will toward men” thing, angels singing to shepherds in the fields, the baby Jesus in the manger, wise men bringing gifts, “merry Christmas” from complete strangers, “A Christmas Carol” on TV in umpteen versions (the Patrick Stewart one is my favorite), the family all gathered together to celebrate, the whole megillah. But somehow that whole Christmas thing doesn't usually include Mary and Joseph on the run to Egypt with the infant Jesus while behind them all male children in Bethlehem two years old and younger are being massacred at Herod's orders, or Jesus dying after being tortured and long excruciating hours on the cross, James beheaded, Stephen stoned to death, or Christians used as torches to light Nero's dinner parties. It also doesn't encompass the massacres and forced conversions carried out by zealous Christians that completely missed the point — “Kill them all, God will recognize his own” was said by a Christian, after all. The world is a lot better than it used to be, but we've paid a high price in blood and pain for that progress and will undoubtedly pay more in the future.
> 
> **Better Days**
> 
> And you ask me what I want this year  
> And I try to make this kind and clear  
> Just a chance that maybe we'll find better days  
> Cause I don't need boxes wrapped in strings  
> And designer love and empty things  
> Just a chance that maybe we'll find better days
> 
> So take these words  
> And sing out loud  
> Cause everyone is forgiven now  
> Cause tonight's the night the world begins again
> 
> I need someplace simple where we could live  
> And something only you can give  
> And thats faith and trust and peace while we're alive  
> And the one poor child who saved this world  
> And there's 10 million more who probably could  
> If we all just stopped and said a prayer for them
> 
> So take these words  
> And sing out loud  
> Cause everyone is forgiven now  
> Cause tonight's the night the world begins again
> 
> I wish everyone was loved tonight  
> And somehow stop this endless fight  
> Just a chance that maybe we'll find better days
> 
> So take these words  
> And sing out loud  
> Cause everyone is forgiven now  
> Cause tonight's the night the world begins again  
> Cause tonight's the night the world begins again


End file.
